Begin Again
by bellatrixD
Summary: Ella has a secret. She arrives in Ottery St. Catchpole at eight years old. Seven years later, she finds herself somewhere she once dreamed of, but lost hope of ever seeing. But nothing is ever as it seems. At least she has the Weasley twins with her. Well, Weasley twin. The other one has issues.
1. Welcome

**Hello everyone! First of all I'd like to thank you for clicking this and thinking it interesting enough to read. Second, this is a sort of remake of my previous story Intertwined (now deleted to avoid any spoilers) as I wasn't happy with how I went about writing that. I've planned this story out now so it _should, _ideally, be better written and thought out. If not, I apologise. **

**I'm open to criticisms, both negative and positive (preferably positive - naturally!) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters or story lines besides my own and that of my OC.**

Begin Again

Chapter 1 - Welcome

All sense of time was lost. The numbness that nipped at my small frail body was all that consumed my mind. My stomach seemed to close in on itself from the lack of nourishment. Had it only been hours since I was exposed to the gruelling winter air? Or had time eluded me so that it had, in actual fact, been days since I was removed from the confines of my home? I couldn't tell.

With frost bitten fingers I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the apple I picked up from a stall around the corner and bit into it, the juice running down my chin. I would have felt guilty for stealing had I not been so hungry.

Moments passed as I greedily ate the apple and flung the core away into a nearby bin. The thin cardigan I wore did little to protect my small frame from the raging snow despite my efforts of containing as much of my body heat as possible.

But still I trudged on, unaware of my destination but anywhere with a small fire and bed was good enough. Even the thought of curling up by a warm fire made my body tingle in anticipation.

I looked up to the darkening sky and realised I should be getting somewhere safe to rest for the night. I thought back to my bedtimes at home and how father would tuck my sister and I in bed after playing flying dragons atop our beds, and then mother would read us a quick story before they both left for their nightly get-togethers with friends. I remembered how we would stay up in the dark talking quietly about anything and everything so the monsters that lurked under our beds couldn't get to us, that our happiness and love would repel them from our house. Most mornings my parents would find us cuddled in the same bed for extra protection and, as the older sibling, we would most likely be in my bed with a broomstick lying idle on the floor beside us. I had to keep a weapon with me; no way was anyone going to take my sister away from me. Ever.

A powerful gust of wind smacked against me and I tumbled to the ground from the impact. I tried to move but my muscles and joints ached and relished in the comfort from the thick snow blanketed beneath. So I laid there. I just laid there and forgot the world. My mind void of any thoughts apart from my heavy lids shutting out the scene before me.

Many shops by now had closed and people were resting in their homes by their fireplaces draped in warm blankets. Anyone out in the January night would have to be mad. The street lights illuminated the roads but the wind and snow were so strong that it was impossible to see very far. No doubt I wouldn't be able to be seen my anybody but I couldn't seem to care.

Succumbing to my bodies fatigue I allowed my eyes to firmly close. I was so comfortable and tired, surely a few minutes rest wouldn't hurt. I snuggled further into the snow and before I knew it I was dead to the world.

* * *

The sounds of pots and pans clattering and a low whining roused me from my sleep. I groggily opened my eyes and found myself encompassed in several warm blankets.

It was all a dream. Of course I was still at home. What was I thinking? I chuckled to myself for even thinking my parents could ever leave me. They loved me. It was obvious every day through the love and affection that they showered, whether it be through random kisses and hugs, or their soothing words. They weren't evil. They would never abandon me. A sleepy grin took over my face and I snuggled further into the warmth, glad to be away from the vivid torture my mind had conjured up. Did I eat something bad before bed?

The smell of food alerted me to the rumbling of my stomach. Nothing like a good old hearty breakfast to clear away the aftermath of a nightmare. Blearily blinking out the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and stretched my sore muscles, mentally cringing at the sound of my joints popping. I turned my head to my sister's bed beside my own: my bed was not as warm as when she was with me and I was always up before her.

Instead of the familiar large purple bed, I found myself meeting a lop-sided grin and a lolling tongue staring back at me.

I gaped at the dog sitting on the floor beside me. Had mother and father gotten a dog? No, of course they hadn't, they hated animals.

I tilted my head and stared at the dog. It copied, tilting its own head to the same side. I sat up straight again. The dog followed. I leaned forward slightly only for the dog to move in even closer, almost licking my face in the process but I was able to move back in time, gasping from the sudden action. The dog let out a great bark and trotted out the room.

Questions soared through my mind all at once, all an echoed incoherent jumble of noise fighting for answers.

I whipped my eyes around my surroundings. Panic flared through me as I was not met with the usual red walls of my room.

No. It was all just a dream, these past few days – or was it weeks? Wasn't it? Mother and father wouldn't…they couldn't…

_Panic_.

The room looked very old-fashioned compared to my lavish home. I found myself resting on a worn pistachio coloured sofa instead of my bed. The walls were a warm lavender although a few scorch marks stood out against the soft colour on the wall to my right. The living room, I supposed, was very plain and contained a sofa and two armchairs, all different textures and colours, a fireplace on the wall where all the furniture faced and several bookshelves against the back wall behind me. From the looks of it, the people who lived here didn't appear to be kidnapping murderers, a thought which somewhat soothed me. But then again, I had yet to meet them. And looks tended to be deceiving. I gulped. There comes the panic again.

Then everything came crashing down. It wasn't a dream. I had been abandoned. Left to roam the streets on my own, to find my own way in the wicked world at only eight years old. _They really did it…_

My breathing began to hitch in my throat as a lump formed. What was I going to do? I was only a child! So consumed in my mental panic attack I didn't notice the tell-tale signs of my oncoming tears: the stinging of my eyes and my face flooding in suffocating warmth. But just as my sobs were on the verge of bursting out, a figure entered from the same archway which the dog had retreated to moments ago.

"Oh, hello dear! How nice it is to see you awake and healthy. You poor thing, sleeping out there in the cold. But don't you worry my love, this is sure to warm your cockles." A small plump woman put down a tray of assorted foods on the table in front of me.

The smell of the food instantly wiped my thoughts clean and my stomach howled. Disregarding my manners, I inhaled the food in front of me without a second thought, thinking only of satisfying my hunger. It had been a _long_ time since I'd had a full meal. The sweet pancakes tingled my stomach pleasurably. The toast smothered in butter melted down my throat, soothing the dryness. The orange juice helped to wash down the food and moistened my sore lips. I was sure there was more food but I couldn't recall all that there was; I was in far too much of a hurry trying to fill myself to the brim.

Within moments crumbs littered the sofa and myself, remnants of food all around my mouth. I sighed contentedly before noticing the dog sitting by the feet of the woman.

Oh, company.

The food distracted me from the lady but now that I had been satisfied I was completely aware of the eyes on me. I peered up at the woman and wiped my face with the sleeves of the way too big jumper covering me. My mother's etiquette teachings were bought back to the forefront of my mind and my face began heating up as I realised how silly I must look, eating like an animal and then wearing it all over me.

"Oh dear, no need to fret about the mess," the old woman smiled. "Here, let me clear this all up now."

She left the room with the tray. The dog stayed watching me curiously, tilting its head once again and I couldn't help but breathe out a small laugh at the cuteness. The dog's ears pointed up, big black eyes and the pink tongue salivating all over the floor just seemed to scream adorable.

"Tha's Jimmy," a gruff voice called from the archway. I turned to see an old man leaning on a wooden stick wearing tattered overalls over a shirt and a heavy coat. He limped into the room and threw his coat off and onto an armchair before sitting down on it. The dog instantly went to his side and lay down by his feet.

My throat was still aching from being exposed to the chilling air for who knows how long so I couldn't form a reply. Not that I wanted to anyway, his presence seemed to scare me into silence. Instead, I looked on at the exchange between the man and Jimmy; the dogs attentiveness to any movement or noise from his master and the man's gentleness in stroking the dogs shaggy black and white fur.

The woman returned within minutes, patting her hands on her apron and sat down on the remaining armchair after greeting the man with a brief kiss to the temple.

"You all better love?" she asked.

I roughly cleared my throat before replying with a meek, "Yes, thank you." The old woman beamed in response.

"What on earth were ye doin' out there? Did ye not see the snowstorm comin' in? And what would yer parents be thinkin' righ' now young lass?" the man asked not roughly, but curiously. At the mention of my parents my shoulders slumped and I could feel the tears welling up all over again. I still couldn't comprehend why it happened. Why me?

"Oh, Bill! Look what you did now, silly man." A comforting hand was placed on my shoulder and I looked up to see the woman sitting beside me. "There, there love, we'll help ya get home now."

That was all it took for my tears to leak out. What home? I had no home, not anymore. Without thinking I buried my face in the woman's bosom, wrapping my arms around her middle with everything I could. My crying intensified when I felt her arms hold me back, rubbing my back and stroking my hair, and heard her soft murmurs. A nudge on my arm notified me of another presence and I winked an eye open to see Jimmy rubbing his nose against my arm.

"I'll er…just put some tea on," Bill said and hobbled out the room. I could barely even hear him over my own crying and the kind lady's whispered words.

I began to calm down and slowly my crying stopped until I was left hiccupping. I moved away from the woman's arms and noticed a huge wet patch on her top.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I managed to whisper. Embarrassed by my actions yet again, I looked down at my hands in my lap. A finger under my chin tilted my head up to look in the woman's brown eyes.

"It's not a problem dear. Don't fret. Now then," she used the pads of her thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks before continuing, "You want to discuss this over a cuppa? Or would you rather some hot milk?"

"Milk please," I replied.

The woman called out to the old man still in the kitchen, "Bill, love, will you warm us up some milk please!"

A gruff, "'course," was heard before the sounds of dishes clinking together and thudding footsteps took over. Within seconds Bill returned and handed a mug to me. I sipped on it as Bill sat back down with a mug of his own with Jimmy following.

"What's yer name?" Bill asked after a few seconds of silence as I drank my milk, revelling in the warmth it was bringing to the rest of my slightly chilled body.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Ella."

"Well, Ella," the old woman said, "that over there is Bill, my husband, and I'm Annie, but everyone around here calls me Nanny Anne. Feel free to call me whatever you feel most comfortable with."

"Thank you…Nanny Anne," I smiled.

"Ella, you from 'round here?" Bill asked, readjusting the cushion behind him.

"I don't…I don't know where I am," I said.

"Well, where are yer parents?"

I looked down again into my near empty mug, afraid to see their expressions and not trusting myself not to start crying again. "They don't want me," I mumbled.

No one spoke for a while and I didn't dare to look up. It was the first time I had said it out loud. It made it feel more real now that I had admitted it to others. Nanny Anne was the one to break the silence.

"Now why would you say that dear?" she asked, smoothing back some of my dark hair.

I had to take a few moments to calm my breathing before replying. "They got rid of me."

Bill was the one to break the uncomfortable silence in the room this time. "Wha' kind of nonsense is that? Wha' kind of parents would do that'? Who would ever kick out a li'l thing like you? Tha's absolutely ridiculous!" Bill sounded angry. It reminded me of the horrid moments I so longed to be a figment of imagination and I curled into myself. Nanny Anne noticed my change in demeanour and instantly chastised her husband to calm down.

"You've had a rough night, how about you go on up to bed and get a good rest. You can stay here for as long as you need Ella darling."

Nanny Anne stood and helped me up to my feet as well. After waiting for my legs to relax from being stiff for so long, she led me out the archway and up the stairs. My eyes began drooping before we even made it all the way up. I didn't notice myself falling back on a bed.

* * *

The table was laid with piles of toast and plates of eggs and sausages. I was sat at the kitchen table stroking Jimmy's soft fur as he sat patiently on the seat beside me.

My sleep had been undisturbed by any dreams or nightmares and I awoke with the recognition of not being home; the odd smell I had woken up to worried my senses before remembering the events before. The feeling had left me somewhat hollow which had dispersed as soon as Jimmy joined me in my bed and dragged me down to the kitchen, as if sensing my unease and coming to my rescue before my over-imaginative mind got the better of me by conjuring up the crazy scenarios which can only be thought up by a child.

Nanny Anne was cooking by the stove and she called out to Bill in the garden once all the food was placed on the table.

"Good mornin' lass. You have a nice sleep?" Bill asked with a small smile as he sat himself down at the round table followed by Nanny Anne.

"Yes, thank you sir," I said around a bite of toast, careful not to make as much of a mess as I had before.

"Please, none of that 'sir' business, call me Bill."

I nodded in reply. Breakfast continued in silence with brief comments about a paper shop from Bill ("We'll need some more shipment of the printing paper, tha' old codger Wilkins came in again askin' for a whole case, the bleedin' bastard") and Nanny Anne speaking about the neighbours in the village. No one mentioned the discussion from the night before on my sudden appearance, and for that I was grateful. I wasn't sure I was ready to discuss it just yet. _Or ever._

My mind was stuck on my future while the adults discussed. Where was I going to live? Surely Bill and Nanny Anne wouldn't want me around them until I was old enough to leave. No, they would probably find me a family to stay with. They'd want to know why I was kicked out at only eight years old. What would I tell them? Definitely not the truth. Even though I had been disowned I was not about to go and divulge information on my parents.

"So Ella," Nanny Anne called, breaking me out of my internal worrying, "you fancy getting to know some of the neighbours tonight over dinner? It's best you ought to meet them soon if you're to be living with us. And we'll be sure to be continuing our little chat soon as well of course love."

My mind went blank. "What?"

"Well if it's too soon we could always arrange some other day. I'm sure we can organise something. And don't worry about being around us old fuddy-duddies, there are plenty of kids around your age. Although some are quite a menace but you can-"

"Stay with you?" I interrupted. Was I imagining things? No, she couldn't have possibly thought to let me stay.

Nanny Anne chuckled. "Well of course. You don't think we'd let you leave without a place do go now, did you?"

I stared at her for the longest time, her smile unwavering.

"It's no problem to us lass, we've got space and God knows it'd be nice to have a young soul around, if not for us for Jimmy," Bill said.

At the sound of his name Jimmy let out a great bark and sat up on his haunches waggling his tail excitedly behind him.

I couldn't comprehend what was happening. It all seemed so fast. Just yesterday I had been starving in the freezing streets and now, I was being offered a home, more food than I could believe, two caring guardians and a pet above all! It seemed too good to be true. The offer was incredibly appealing.

But life without my real family, I've never known anything else. The thought of being taken in by complete strangers in an unknown town scared me to no end. Could I really do it? It's not like I'd have to change my lifestyle, I was always the odd one out, always had been whether it was within my family or the people my parents associated themselves with. I'd fit right in here though. No high expectations from my parents, no lying to their colleagues and friends, no petty jealousy. It sounded perfect. My eight year old imagination got away with me and I was instantly taken away to a place where I would live with Bill, Nanny Anne and Jimmy. _A family. _

I smiled at the two adults watching me carefully. "Where did you say we live?"

Nanny Anne and Bill both grinned at my mention of 'we'. "Welcome to Ottery St. Catchpole."


	2. Cupcakes and Apples

**Hello dear readers! Nice little update for you with some Weasley twin action! I was going to wait for another chapter to introduce the darling but I always love it when they get in the story nice and early, brings some familiarity into fanfics. Just before I deleted the previous story 'Intertwined' I realised it had over 1,000 views! Sadly, it had to go for this story to surface.**

**Thank you to india123 for following this story, and to sockmonkies4ever (what an amazing name!) for following _and favouriting!_ After only one chapter as well.**

**Feedback always appreciated and I do hope you enjoy.**

**Edit: changed the speech between George and Ella slightly towards the end.**

* * *

Chapter 2 - Cupcakes and apples

"Goodbye Ella, don't be shy now, come around and play with Jonathan whenever you feel like."

"Thank you Mrs Pike, I'll try and visit soon."

At last, the remaining guests had finally left. All night the house was filled with families from the village of Ottery St. Catchpole after hearing of the appearance of the 'mysterious new girl'. The small village hardly had any exciting happenings and with the tight knit community, the rumour spread quickly and Nanny Anne and Bill were catering for a full house of people in no time.

After being accepted into the household of my new carers, Bill and Jimmy led me around the village despite Nanny Anne's protest for me to stay indoors for my health – I had only just returned to a somewhat average temperature. He showed me their paper shop first as it was adjacent to their – _our – _home. While he organised the stock, I was left to roam around the shop floor. The knick-knacks on the counter caught my attention and I spent most of my time analysing them. There were key rings showing sceneries of hills and foreign beaches, tiny packets of sweets, nuts and dried fruit, an array of colourful threads, yo-yos and a few packs of cards.

Bill then showed me through the market as he had to pick up a few items needed for lunch and dinner. Not many people were out and almost the entire street was barren of stalls due to the thick blanket of snow splayed out from the storm. All the while Bill would be talking about the village and its occupants. I had found out my new home was now in Devon, a fact which did not surprise me as much it would have if it were not for the fact that I had been staying with my family at their holiday cottage in Somerset at the time, as opposed to our everyday London home.

Jimmy was constantly by my side, leading me this way and that, as if chaperoning me himself. The sweet dog didn't hesitate to pull me along to his favourite spots, one of them being a large tree at the bottom of Stoatshead Hill – a sign by the hill said. As I was about to venture further up the hill to discover the wonders of the village beyond (I could have sworn I heard a running stream close by), Bill had called out that we should be heading back.

Upon returning _home_, we were greeted with several cheerful faces much to my dismay. More people arrived late into the night and, for once, I felt a deep sense of loneliness surrounded by crowds of strangers. Nanny Anne and Bill were swept away, busy attending to the needs of the guests and Jimmy was being hassled by several children. This left me alone to deal with the relentless questioning. Question after question. The feeling of immense panic crept onto me like hundreds of spiders crawling over my bare skin. It itched and prickled but I couldn't escape. Bill and Nanny Anne had been nice enough to make a cover story for me as I was still unwilling to share my story to them after breakfast, however I still found myself freezing up whenever asked. It was only when Nanny Anne entered the room and sought me out amongst the crowd, registering the look of frightfulness on my face that she huddled me into the confines of the kitchen where I was left with the sweet and savoury smells of her lush dinner.

And that was when I met Zoe. Zoe Brimble wobbled into the kitchen and fell unceremoniously onto her behind, giggling like a lunatic and letting out snorts every few seconds. Her laughter caused her to fall back onto the floor where she rolled over several times and banged her fists on the floor before – _finally_ – calming down enough to sit herself back up, red in the face splotched with tears. That was when she noticed me staring. She stood up and made her way towards me looking completely at ease, not at all embarrassed by how she was sprawled out on the floor in hysterics only moments before.

"I'm Zoe Brimble and I'm 10 years old. Dad says you're the new girl." Her greeting was so formal unlike any other child's. She stuck her hand out.

Zoe was a tall girl even for a ten year old. I had to stand to get a decent grip on her hand. After introducing myself for the umpteenth time that night, Zoe led me out of the kitchens and to a boy her age: Jonathan 'Nate' Pike. We spent the rest of the evening together finding out about each other's favourite hobbies and animals and childhood stories, until they all departed along with the rest of the guests, Nate leaving last with his mother as she was delightedly gushing over Johnny's new little friend, producing a bright red blush on his face.

I sighed, collapsing at the kitchen table as Jimmy too flopped down on his little bed in the corner.

"Ah, there you are, Ella. I hope you had a pleasant evening. I do apologise for the crowd though, not everyone normally visits all in one go like that so you won't go through it again I assure you," Nanny Anne said. She pulled on her yellow rubber gloves and began washing the cutlery in the sink.

I opted for a smile in return, my throat sore from all the talking I had to endure – or rather avoided. A yawn broke through my lips as Bill entered and sat himself opposite me.

"Enjoy y'rself girl?"

I smiled again, but all I wanted to do was huff and puff and sprawl myself out on my new bed. After all, I was immensely grateful for all they had done, and it had only been a day! I wasn't going to be rude and moan in frustration after I intruded in their home and their lives.

Despite this, Bill seemed to see through me and chuckled. "How 'bout a game of cards? You know how to play?" He pulled out a pack of cards from his pocket and removed the elastic holding them together.

"I've never played," I said.

"Ok, we'll start with somethin' simple."

Twenty five minutes later we were still sat at the kitchen table in a heated game of Go Fish after having the game explained to me well over four times. Bill was in the lead (although I was sure he was cheating; I could have sworn I had the three of hearts in my hand not two minutes ago) and our raised voices attracted the attention of Jimmy who trotted between us to get a good look at our cards. Nanny Anne had retreated to the living room once the dishes were all gleaming.

"Got any…fives?" I asked, glaring at my hand.

"Go Fish."

I slammed the cards down. "I give up! This game is stupid," I huffed.

Bill chuckled and gathered up the cards and shuffled them. "How 'bout somethin' a little harder, eh? Ever heard of blackjack?"

I shook my head. Nanny Anne bustled into the room as Bill began to deal out the cards. "Oh, no you don't. No teaching the girl how to gamble Bill." She grabbed the cards out of his hand and the cards on the table and put them in her cardigan pocket.

"Oh, come on love! I need to play with someone," Bill groaned.

"Not with a little girl you don't."

Nanny Anne sat down at the table. "Ella, love, did you make any new friends tonight?"

I nodded. I told her of Zoe Brimble, the tall, pretty brunette, and Jonathan Pike, the blushing blonde. She claimed they were lovely kids and was proud I got along with them, despite my arguing that Zoe did most of the talking while Nate and I just nodded and answered her questions. Zoe was different from the girls I once associated myself with. Yes, she was forward and rather blunt ("You have quite a long nose there Ella, reckon you can ring a doorbell with that?") but she was outgoing and honest and nice. While others had before taunted my slightly longer than average nose (it wasn't even that big! Honestly), she made it sound cool, as if everyone in the world should have a nose like mine. In all honesty, she was my first real friend.

Remembering the people I once called friends made me realise I would probably never see them again. This thought should have made me happy, but I felt somewhat disappointed. They were still my friends, albeit they were family friends first, so we had spent loads of time together, whether it was going out in the garden and swimming, or having sleepovers.

Just then I recalled seeing two mops of bright red hair sticking out amongst the crowd of children by Jimmy earlier in the night. Never before had I seen hair so fiery and wild. It seemed to call out to me, enticing me to get close like the light attracts moths (did I really just liken myself to a moth?). But just as soon as I saw it, they had gone. The red heads did not come to greet me as everyone else had, and no parents laid claim to having red haired children so I was left unaware as to who the mystery kids were.

"Well, it's good you've made some nice friends. You know, we'll have to enrol you in school soon, we don't want you lagging behind everyone else now," Nanny Anne said.

"School?" I asked.

"Yes, of course! There's only one school in town though so you should be ready after the holidays, which if I'm correct, ends on Monday, so you should be all set by Tuesday. Oh, you'll love it there Ella, the teachers are marvellous and you'll see a lot more of Zoe and Nate."

My mind was too tired to think anything of this and I felt another yawn bubbling up in my throat.

"Go on up to bed love, you look knackered," Nanny Anne said.

"I'm not tired," I insisted, failing to stifle the oncoming yawn.

"Well then Ella, how 'bout you tell us a bit 'bout yer family seemin' as yer not tired," Bill said, watching me.

I froze. No. No, Bill I can't. I'm sorry. That definitely quelled my fatigue. Just thinking about what happened made my blood run cold.

"I-"

"Bill! Don't rush the poor girl. You know it can't be easy for her to talk about this," Nanny Anne snapped.

"Anne, we need to know. She's livin' under our roof, I think we have the right to know, don't you?" Bill said, still keeping his eyes on me.

"Bill, think reasonably-"

"I am, Anne!" He lost his composure. "We know nothin' of this li'l girl here. Yes, I see she's just a young girl, but you don' think that _they_ wouldn' stoop so low as to send a child to-"

"NO, Bill! That's enough. I won't hear another word of this."

I was shaking at this point, eyes wide in fear. Bill hadn't let on that I was a burden to him; he made sure to make me feel welcome and was nothing but caring, if a bit awkward, since I awoke on their sofa. So why was he so mad?

"Anne. Please love. I know you're thinkin' the same, you jus' won't say it," Bill said in a much softer voice, though still firm.

"Ella, why don't you go on up to bed?" Nanny Anne said, ignoring her husband.

Unable to form a reply, I nodded swiftly and made my way up the stairs hurriedly. Jimmy didn't follow.

Nightmarish thoughts swirled through my mind as I lay restless in bed. I was sure I had been lying in bed for hours now; I heard Nanny Anne and Bill retreat to bed a while ago. Bill's snored penetrated the air, broken every few moments with a grunt, as Nanny Anne prodded and pushed him to stop, I presumed.

Why was Bill so angry? He seemed to enjoy my company when we were playing cards. His little outburst made me feel unwanted – a feeling I was, unfortunately, already familiar with. I thought back to everything I'd done since I arrived but nothing I did seemed to make sense for him to snap. Maybe he just didn't want me. Maybe I was just a burden to everyone.

* * *

Jimmy and I raced towards the bakery and waited outside, Jimmy barking for Nanny Anne to hurry her pace. The smell of fresh bread and cakes wafted down the street and I couldn't resist ogling at the display through the window, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun on the window.

"Oh, keep your fur down Jim, I'm here now, I'm here, down boy," Nanny Anne chuckled as she reached the bakery.

"Come on Nanny!" I grabbed her hand and dragged her in, the bell tinkling above the door as we entered, leaving Jimmy outside.

It had been almost a month since Bill's outburst and we hadn't spent much time together since. Almost all of our encounters went by speechless apart from the occasional "hello" and "have a nice day". He always kept a wary eye on me, monitoring my every move. I had begun to think him paranoid. The atmosphere was always awkward when it was just us – something Nanny Anne made sure to prevent as much as she could – and not once did he bring up my family again. I was glad he hadn't probed me any further but I knew I would have to open up to them soon; even Nanny Anne began to show signs of feeling uncomfortable with her lack of knowledge. Her eyes would linger on me for longer than usual and she would fidget whenever I mentioned change from my old life.

I avoided thinking of my family at all costs. After all, they weren't my family anymore. It had taken me a long time to get used to that idea and the tension around Bill, the father figure in my new 'family' didn't help to make me adjust to the sudden change. In all honesty, I missed the cuddles and kisses from my parents and sister. I missed playing with my aunt's pets, and hide and seek with my friends in their large houses.

But that was my old life. I had to move on.

"Hello Imogen," Nanny Anne greeted the baker.

"Oh, hello there Anne, Ella," the woman, Imogen, greeted. She was a young woman, just married with a contagious glowing smile.

"Hi Immy."

"How about a little cupcake?" she asked. I grinned and nodded. Ever since I first came to the bakery it became customary for Imogen to offer me her famous chocolate fudge cupcake – my favourite.

Imogen passed me the large cupcake – or rather muffin by the size of it – and winked as I took a great big bite.

"What'll it be today, Anne?" Imogen asked, turning her attention to Nanny Anne.

"The usual please: a loaf of your oat seeded bread and some of your…"

I tuned out Nanny Anne's order as I ate the gooey cupcake. I peered out the window to see Jimmy wagging the remnants of snow with his tail and nosing the lamppost.

"Ella dear, you go on out with Jimmy, seems we'll be here while," Nanny Anne said as Imogen retreated to the back.

"Ok."

I left the toasty bakery and sat on the bench outside, Jimmy trotting over as soon as he saw me. He flicked his tongue out towards my cupcake.

"Uh-uh! No you don't Jimbo, you know Nanny Anne doesn't like it when you nibble on cakes. And besides, you know only people can have chocolate," I chastised Jimmy, bringing my free hand up against his face and moving the cupcake away behind me.

"Oh, don't mind if I do then."

In an instant the cupcake vanished from behind me.

"Hey!" I turned quickly, surprised I didn't get whiplash, and looked up to see a mischievous face grinning at me. The culprit! I put my hands on my hips. "That's my cupcake!"

He looked at the cupcake, as if observing it, turning it at all angles to get a decent look before taking a great big bite with his eyes closed. "Mmm, and what a good cupcake it is! Very delicious." He licked his lips.

"Oi! Stop eating my cake," I reached out for the cupcake as he took another bite, moaning noises of approval. He leaned back out of my reach.

"Buh ish sho goof!" He gushed.

"Jimmy!" I yelled, annoyed at the boy eating my cake and resorting to my back up. Surely Jimmy wouldn't stand for this. It was almost finished already!

With no response from the dog in the seconds that passed, I looked back to see him sitting back on his haunches with his head tilted, looking amused.

"Fat lot of good you are," I mumbled.

A whistle from behind me caught Jimmy's attention and he immediately went over to the source – who else other than greedy cupcake thief! He crouched down and began petting Jimmy, the dog stretching and posing in appreciation.

"Traitor," I huffed.

"Nice dog you have here, what's its name?" the boy asked without looking up.

"Jimmy," I answered.

"Hello Jimmy, you're a good boy aren't you? Your friend there is such a meanie though, isn't she boy?" he cooed. Jimmy barked in response.

"Hey! Stop turning my dog against me," I said. I strode towards him and planted my hands on my hips again. "Where's my cupcake?"

He smirked. Instead of replying, he winked and patted his flat stomach. My eyes narrowed down at him. "You didn't."

He winked again.

I began to grow frustrated as Jimmy lapped up the boy's attention. "Jimmy, come here boy," I called, bending down slightly and putting my hands on my knees. No way was this boy going to knick my cupcake _and _turn my own dog against me.

But he ignored me.

"_Jimmy._ Here boy, there's a yummy treat for you back home."

Again, nothing.

"Come on Jimbo, you don't want to be with the mean boy, you could get germs from him."

"Oi!" the boy said looking affronted, although the slight twitching of his lips gave him away.

After a few more tries of getting Jimmy's attention I gave up.

"Well fine then! Stick with the ginger, you traitor," I said, flinging my arms up in the air and moving to sit on the vacated bench like a petulant child. _Well, I am one so it's only right to look like one_. Instead of watching the affectionate display between boy and dog, I turned my gaze to stare at a patch of snow, murky and grey from the trampling of feet it had endured. I only flickered my eyes upon the two when I heard him chuckling and Jimmy barking, only to see him looking back at me with that stupid smirk in place accompanied with a wink. This happened a few times before I looked towards the white sky, adamantly ignoring them.

"Jimmy's great, very loyal indeed," his voice was right next to me, making me jump. He somehow managed to sit beside me on the bench without making any noise – or was I just really zoned out? – With Jimmy now lying by our feet.

I eyed the boy. "Thanks."

"George," he stuck his hand out and winked again.

"Do you have a problem with your eye? It's twitching an awful lot, maybe you should get it looked at," I smirked. But to my surprise he smirked back. And winked again.

"It does that when I see a pretty girl," he said, followed by an exaggerated wink. My little eight year old self flushed at the compliment, but I was determined not to let it show; he just ate my cupcake and turned Jimmy into a traitor! Instead, I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"Still, I think it needs looking at. You look terrible," I smiled at his insulted expression.

"Terrible? _Me?_ Oh, no, my dear, I do believe it is you who needs their eyes testing."

I saw his still outstretched hand and bit my lip – should I…?

Yes. I shall.

"Ella," I said and shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Ella!"

"Likewise."

"So, Ella. I haven't seen you 'round before." George leaned back on his elbows.

"Oh, didn't you know? I'm the new girl," I was shocked he didn't know; by now everyone in the town knew who I was and made a point of talking to me whenever possible. "Wait, you were at my house."

Of course! His bright red fiery hair should have alerted me straight away. He was one of the red heads at my welcoming party. Up close his hair was even more wild and vibrant. His eyes were the brightest blue I had ever seen and they seemed to have a sparkle to them, and his face was adorned with hundreds of freckles.

"Aha! Yes, I remember you!" I exclaimed, pointing my finger in his face. I couldn't care less how ridiculous I looked; eyes wide in excitement, face flushed (mainly from the cold and not at all from how cute I thought he looked – definitely not) and my mouth unable to close from the massive grin that took over my face.

"Er- when was this?" he asked sheepishly.

"About a month ago."

"Umm…a month ago…a month ago- Oh yes! I remember now," his face returned to normal after being furrowed in deep concentration. "Sorry for not saying hello, only had enough time to pop in for a minute. Should've realised it was you when I saw little Jimbo here."

Said dog let out a bark upon hearing his name.

"It's fine, I had a massive headache after repeating myself over and over and _over _again to everyone. I must say it was quite nice not speaking to everyone, made you more mysterious," I instantly regretted my words at the mischievous smirk George displayed.

"Mysterious, eh? And you like that?"

Warning: face flushing, face flushing, my mind screamed at me. Just then I felt the heat creeping up my neck. Damn you giddy eight year old crushing!

"N-no. 'Course not. What would make you say- look! The stall's open, I'm hungry," I leapt up and ran to the stall opposite the street, desperate to leave the conversation. It was one of my favourites as the apples were just amazing! So juicy and crisp and sweet. My mouth began to salivate just from the thought of it.

"Hello, Mr Dicks," I smiled to the old man at the stall.

George snorted from behind me.

"Don't be rude, there's nothing wrong with Dicks," George sniggered, "For all I know you have an even worse surname," I hissed under my breath so Mr Dicks wouldn't hear.

"Hello little Ella, another apple today?" the stall owner grinned, his bushy grey moustache covering half his face and revealing his cracked yellow teeth.

I nodded. "The red one as usual please."

"And how 'bout you mister? You like an apple?" Mr Dicks asked George.

George fiddled around in his pockets, the sound of coins jiggling filling the air before he took out a handful and counted through them.

"Sorry, I don't think I'll have enough."

I turned back to Mr Dicks. "Two apples please."

"No, no Ella, it's fine, really-"

"I'm offering, George. It's fine, no problem."

George grabbed my arm and looked at me unsurely as I was reaching my hand out to take the apples. I smiled in response. After another moment's hesitation George let go and looked to Mr Dicks. "I'll have a green one then."

The old man nodded and exchanged one red apple for a green one and handed them to us.

"Thank you sir," I waved, walking across the street and back towards the bakery.

"Cheers," George said, both to me and Mr Dicks.

We ate our apples in silence on the bench.

"How can you like green apples?" The question had been bugging me since George requested a green apple and I couldn't hold the curiosity in any longer.

"'Cos they're good," George said.

"But the red ones are better."

"No they're not," George snorted. "Everyone knows the green ones are _way_ better."

"_No,_ the red ones are the best. They're sweeter and juicier-"

"But the green ones are more sweet and juicy, and just overall nice."

I glared at him. He winked again.

"Whatever," I mumbled.

A sudden chill in the air bought Jimmy shuffling closer to us, cuddling me in his fur to keep me warm.

"Oh! I should be going, mum needed a load of things and I haven't even started." George shot up from his seat and tightened the scarf around his neck. "Well, I'm off. Nice to meet you-"

I smiled.

"-Jimmy."

My smile was gone, now replaced by a glare. He winked.

"Just kidding," he chuckled. "Nice to meet you Ella."

"Whatever."

Nanny Anne came out of the bakery just as George jogged down the road, the warm smells drifting out of the shop and surrounding the air, instantly reminding me of my cupcake.

"It's Weasley!" George called out. I looked at him blankly. "My surname. It's Weasley."

And then he was gone.


	3. The Truth

**Woo chapter three! I apologise for the lack of Weasley twin action in this one, I had planned on including them but after finishing the main part of this chapter I decided against it, it makes more sense to have it in a separate chapter. This is a very crucial chapter in terms of my OC's so please bare with it. **

**And sorry for the update on chapter 2, I realised that I wanted to ever so slightly change the conversation between Ella and George at the end (it's to do with the twins' different personalities but not that important to read.)**

**Thank you to _chocolatecheescakes_ and _SHSL Despair_ for all the follows/favourites and reviews, _Kylersbrown1 _for the follow and favourite and _Elizabeth_ for the favourite! You guys are amazing.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2 - The Truth

Just over a month into joining the little school in Ottery St Catchpole, I came to the conclusion that I hated school. It wasn't that the subjects were bad; they were probably the things I enjoyed the most aside from spending time with my friends. Zoe and Nate made school slightly bearable by being with me as often as they could, which mainly consisted of break and lunch time as they were two years older than me, so I wasn't in the same class as them.

No, it was the students.

The children in my class were atrocious. So many of them were noisy and whiny and spoilt, thus ruining the learning I tried to engage in – I mean who wouldn't find the history of pharaohs and pyramids and the funny text of hieroglyphics interesting! Being a mini adult, as Nanny Anne so often referred to me as, I didn't get on with anyone my age. I was frequently seen glowering at the whinging children who didn't want to use their brains in a simple exercise such as adding two single digits together; something which didn't do me any favours among the students. It was shocking how a few individuals could ruin the entire experience of school.

Ever since my encounter with George outside Imogen's Bakery two weeks ago, I had made sure to keep an eye out for his bright head of hair in school, but I never saw him. It crossed my mind that he was, perhaps, in another year group if he was older, but the school was so small I should have encountered him in the playground at least once, where all the students congregated at break and lunch times. Even out in the village there was no sign of him. He seemed to have just disappeared.

It was lunch time and I sat in the lunch hall with Zoe and Nate, nibbling on the chicken sandwich Nanny Anne packed for me using last night's dinner for the filling, before turning to my two friends.

"And then fat Mrs- sorry- _Ms_ Crankshaw, the cranky old cow, had the _audacity_ to-"

"Is there a George Weasley in the school?" I asked, cutting off Zoe from retelling the story of her teacher yelling out at her in class for interrupting Andrew 'Bogey' Smith, the slowest boy in the entire school in terms of brain power, as he tried to read out an extract from Shakespeare's 'A Midsummers Night Dream'. He barely made it through the first paragraph before Zoe got annoyed and requested the teacher to change readers.

"A what?" Zoe blinked owlishly.

"George Weasley. Do you know him? Does he come here?"

"Never heard of the weasel thing," Zoe replied, sipping her orange juice in a plastic green cup. Just as she realised I had met someone in the village whom she did not know of, she snapped her head up. "Where did you meet him? What did he look like? Where does he live?"

"Calm down, Zo," Nate chuckled, obviously used to his best friend's erratic behaviour, "one question at a time, remember?"

"Oh, get lost," Zoe mumbled.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine today," Nate teased.

"Well, if you didn't just hear what happened in class today, which, by the way, you should have because _you were right there_, then you'd know why."

"So, no George?" I interrupted before the two got into another one of their common famous spats.

Nate turned to me first. "Nope. Never heard of him."

A feeling of disappointment surged through me. I was hoping to have another friend in the rotten school. "Oh."

"So!" Zoe exclaimed, slapping her hands on the table and gaining the attention of the younger students nearby who looked on nervously. "Where did you meet him? When? How?"

I sighed. The rest of lunch was spent answering their – mainly Zoe's – questions on George. We moved out into the playground where the snow had now completely melted away and the beginnings of fresh green grass were starting to grow. Nate didn't seem to be as bothered by the mystery boy as Zoe, so he stayed quiet most of the time.

We sat down at our usual spot: a bench in the little rotting gazebo at the top of the playground. I had just started to tell Zoe and Nate of the apple incident (how could _anyone_ like green apples and not red? Madness!), when large footsteps stomped on the wooden floor.

"Oh, looky who it is," the familiar stuffy drawl sung. "It's wittle Ella and her two buddies."

Prunella Trunchball. The meanest girl in school. With small beady eyes and blonde wiry hair that stood out like – what was her name? Medusa! She had taken it upon herself to make my school life an absolute misery the second she set her eyes on me. The stumpy freckly blonde would trip me up in the hallways, 'accidently' fling food at me, drench me in water if I happened to be near the drinking fountain and scribble on my skin in felt tip pens. After my first week in school, she had somehow circulated a song about me to all the year groups. I had never bothered to learn it; I tried not to let it get to me, especially when I had Nate and Zoe threaten anyone who sang it.

"What do you want Prune-butt?" Zoe huffed. Apparently it was a great insult to add the word 'butt' at the end of a name. Prunella instantly fumed at the nickname, her face taking on the hue of a – wait for it – prune!

"Buzz off Zoe Pimple-butt," again with the butt. "I was just wondering whether Smelly Ellie here was ready for our art lesson."

Oh yeah, she was in my class. Dang,

The bell rang suddenly. Time for lesson. She grinned a great grin, one that definitely warned me of something she had planned, then she strode away on her small thick legs to class.

"Well," I drawled, "this should be a fun hour. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I hopped off the bench and waved to my friends, following Prunella's footsteps to our class.

* * *

Two hours I had scrubbed my arms for and _still _I was covered in paint. Prunella had taken it upon herself to sit herself beside me in class and paint on me rather than her card.

"Oh Ella, didn't we teach you better than that! You could've been the better person in this situation, but _no_, you decided to take it in your own hands rather than tell the teacher. I mean _honestly,_ she would've gotten into more trouble had you not bitten back."

Oh yeah, how could I forget. I giggled at the memory. After Prunella had painted half my arm in a hideous orange and was about to brush some more paint into my hair, I grabbed the bottle of blue paint and squeezed it atop her head with a squelching _frrrp_. Her shriek, which sounded more like a roar, alerted the teacher of what was happening and she instantly stormed over to us. We were both sent outside.

Needless to say I don't think Prunella will be bothering me anymore in art lessons.

"But Nanny Anne!" I cried. She just could not see the bright side to the whole episode.

Nanny Anne scoffed, shaking her head and returned to the stove to stir her pot of stew. I sat at the kitchen table rubbing my now red arms to soothe them after the vigorous scrubbing they had undergone.

Bill was opposite me with a newspaper covering his face, but even so, after every futile attempt to get Nanny Anne to smile he would chuckle. A warmth spread through me every time he did. It was the closest I had felt to everything being normal since his outburst a couple of months ago. It felt good.

Jimmy bounded towards me and began licking my arm, growling softly in his chest.

"Oh, you're so cute when you're protective, Jimbo," I giggled, and stroked the top of his head.

Woof!

"He's been missin' yer durin' the day. Not used to yer not bein' home."

Looking up I saw Bill's newspaper now flat on the table. Bill sat back comfortably on his chair, watching me with the smallest, barely visible smile on his face. It was the first time he had said something to me other than "hello". Even Nanny Anne was shocked as she stopped cooking and stared at Bill, her eyes wide with joy.

"I've missed him too," I said.

Bill made a sound from the back of his throat and nodded before returning to his newspaper.

I beamed and looked at Nanny Anne. She too was smiling massively.

"Ok, dinner's just about ready. Ella, set the table please love."

Dinner was a pleasant affair as Bill conversed to me as if we had never had a dispute. He asked me about school, all my lessons, and my friends. When he asked whether or not I was being picked on I gladly told him of Prunella Trunchball. He was angry at first, at all the things she got away with. But then I told him of the encounter that happened earlier in the day and he couldn't stop laughing. Nanny Anne couldn't even remove the smile from her face despite her being disappointed I had let my temper get the best of me.

"Ooh-hoo, I'm proud of yer girl, that's some nerve you got. Great big ball-" Bill was hysterical, wiping the tears away from his eyes after seeing my impersonation of the Trunchball by squinting my eyes and poofing my cheeks out. He didn't even seem to realise what he was saying. Or going to say.

"BILL!"

We were all stuck in a fit of laughter after that. Even Jimmy joined with his barking laugh. The light bulb began flickering overhead but no one paid it any attention.

Eventually my laughter died down with a deep sigh. Nanny Anne's laughter turned into small hiccups soon after, which gradually grew into great big hacking coughs.

Bill promptly sat up. "Love, you ok?"

He got up from his seat and hurriedly limped around the table to pat Nanny Anne's back. Her face had gone tomato red. I stared horrified. Surely she shouldn't be this bad after laughing? She didn't even laugh as much as Bill and I. Was she even breathing?

With the aid of Bill patting her back and giving her room to breathe, Nanny Anne soon returned to normal. She took a few gulps of air before smiling shakily and patting Bill's hand in thanks. He gripped it back before standing to his full height.

"I've got a call to make," he moved to the fridge and pulled out the milk and sat it on the counter.

"Bill, it's fine, honestly, you don't need to-"

"Ella, make yer Nanny a cuppa. You'll be alrigh' with the kettle, won't yer?" Bill interrupted. I nodded slowly. I hardly ever saw Bill or Nanny Anne make tea but I could vaguely remember the steps from when my parents had made it.

"Alrigh' then," Bill said and left quickly before Nanny Anne could object again.

Nanny Anne sighed. "That old fuss pot."

Without saying a word I got up and started on the tea. Standing up high on my toes, I reached up and skimmed my fingers over the nearest mug, sliding it closer towards me so it was easier to get a grip on. Grabbing the kettle and filling it with water, I stood in the middle of the kitchen glancing around the counters. Nanny Anne opened her eyes.

"We don't have an electric kettle, just pop it on the hob love."

I nodded and continued making the tea. The kettle whistled after a few moments and I poured it into the mug with a tea bag, followed by the milk. Once I finished stirring it I passed it over to Nanny Anne.

"Thank you darling."

We sat in silence for a while, Nanny Anne making small faces down at her mug from time to time when she thought I wasn't looking. Did I leave the tea bag in there?

Just then Nanny Anne spluttered on her tea and began coughing again. My eyes widened. What should I do? Bill was so composed earlier when helping her. My mind was wiped blank.

"Bill!" I shouted before I realised what I was doing.

"No-" Nanny Anne wheezed before her coughs took over her voice again.

I jumped up from my seat and ran to the living room. "BILL! _Bill!_"

I skidded around the corner and through the archway. What I saw made my blood run cold, the all too familiar feeling of needles prickling me came crashing down full force.

Bill was hunched over on his knees on the floor, peering into the fireplace where it looked as if a face was imprinted in the fire. From my position I could just about hear a voice from the fire conversing with Bill. Their voices were hushed; apparently they were unaware of my presence.

"No," I breathed out. No, this couldn't be happening. I was dreaming. No- a nightmare. This was a nightmare. The whole day never happened. I never asked Zoe and Nate about George Weasley. I never squirted paint on Prunella Trunchball. I never saw Nanny Anne get into a heavy coughing fit twice. And I definitely did not see Bill talk to someone in a fireplace without burning from the close contact with the flames. My new perfect family were no longer perfect. It was ruined.

Bill heard me. His head snapped up so hard and fast I was surprised he didn't break his neck. From the corner of my eye I noticed the face in the fire also looked towards me but my eyes were riveted on Bill. His face transformed from one of confusion to one of utter anger in a flash.

"Ella."

His voice was so low I barely noticed he spoke. He shot up off the floor and moved his hand to his back.

Nanny Anne's intensifying coughs broke my transfixed state and I ran back into the kitchen. She looked even worse than before. Her face was no longer its usual creamy complexion, and nor was it the red hue she had adopted earlier. Now her face was a bright purple going onto blue.

"Nanny!" I cried, rushing to her side and patting her back similar to how Bill had done earlier.

"ANNE!" Bill lunged across the room so fast you wouldn't believe he had a limp. He pushed me away, taking my place by Nanny Anne. "Come one, Anne, breathe for me love," he said. Bill rubbed her back roughly.

Bill had pushed me so hard I fell to the ground. I couldn't move. Tears were streaming down my face as I feared for the worst. I prayed silently as I witnessed the scene before me. Oh God, please let Nanny be ok, please, oh please.

This went on for a while. Bill was softly whispering sweet words and instructions to Nanny Anne as I sat crumpled on the wooden floor, unable to tear my eyes away. The palms of my hands ached from the impact upon hitting the floor but I didn't care. It didn't matter.

Minutes passed and Nanny Anne, for the second time that day, slowly calmed herself and began to breathe again. Bill stayed by her side continuing to rub her back, making sure she was absolutely fine and her blue face reduced to its usual tone.

He took a deep breath and moved back slightly. He tilted his head back and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. As if suddenly realising what happened, he turned to me.

"You. Wha' did you see? Eh? Wha' were you doin'?" Bill began to stalk towards me but was stopped by Nanny Anne.

"Don't," was all her weak voice could manage. It seemed to snap Bill's attention back to her.

His voice went quiet. "Anne, I have to."

It was then I noticed he was holding something in his hand. He must have pulled it out as I ran out the living room. It was long and thin, with a wooden strip curled around it. It was thinner at the tip and thick where he held it. All over it was covered in intricate carvings. The only colour was the vine wrapped around it; it was a sparkly midnight blue that was barely noticeable, but gleamed in the light. The colour made it seem ethereal and magical, and it took every ounce of energy for me to take my eyes off it.

Bill and Nanny Anne were still having a low discussion, Nanny Anne looking weary and weak. In no time at all Bill nodded and rubbed his hand over her head.

Bill sighed. "You two go on inside, I'll bring yous a cuppa."

I got up on shaky legs and grabbed Nanny Anne's hand, helping her through the archway and into the living room. She sat down in her plush armchair while I made myself comfy on the pistachio green sofa. I watched the dwindling fires in the fireplace (the face was no longer to be seen). We always opted to leave the lights off during the evening as it always seemed too harsh on the eyes, whereas the fire emitted a soothing radiance; its usual warm glow now casting an eerie ambience in the room.

My mind wandered to the nights events. Nanny Anne was ill – that was for sure. Very ill if her second episode accounted for anything. But what exactly was wrong with her? Was it serious? Could she be cured? And Bill…maybe I saw wrong? Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was no way Bill was talking to someone in the fire without harming himself. I couldn't believe it. I _wouldn't _believe it.

Nanny Anne had her head tilted back against her armchair. The fire cast shadows to dance across her face, making her look far younger than she was. She looked so innocent and well. He wrinkles seemed to disappear and her few freckles stood out. Despite her pudginess she had sharp cheekbones which just about poked out of her plump face.

Seconds later Bill appeared with two steaming mugs.

"That was quick," I noted, accepting the smaller of the mugs.

"Nngh," he grunted in reply.

"Cheers love," Nanny Anne said after being handed her green mug.

We all sat in silence, just drinking our tea – hot chocolate in my case – with our thoughts being our only company. For the first time during the week my mind flitted to my parents and sister. What were they doing? How were they coping without me? Did they think of me often? At all? Would they be thinking where I was, or who I was with? Did they feel they did wrong; casting me out of their home? Were they guilty?

"Bill," I started. He didn't look up.

I continued to drink my hot chocolate. I hoped he hadn't heard me. I wasn't ready to say anything, I just felt the need to break the silence.

"I'm sorry Ella," Bill said, his voice, although low, carried across the room. I looked up to see him looking back remorsefully.

"What…?" I said, confused. Why was he sorry? Why do I have so many questions tonight?

He drained his mug and placed it on the coffee table. He got up and, from his back pocket, pulled out his wooden stick again. Fear coursed through me and I instantly shot up.

"Bill," Nanny Anne said. Her voice took on a tone of pleading.

"I have to," he whispered, all of his previous anger now gone.

Nanny Anne sniffled. "Bill you don't have to. She can keep this quiet. Won't you dear? You didn't see anything did you love?"

My mind was jumbled with what seemed to be a million thoughts running through it, none which I could make sense of. Just then Jimmy entered the room and stood between me and Bill as if sensing the tension. He stood in a protective stance in front of me. But with his small figure Bill still had a clear watch on me.

"I'm sorry Ella, you won't remember this. Don't worry girl, you won't feel a thing."

He raised his hand again, aiming the stick to my head I blindly edged backwards away from Bill.

"Bill, you're scaring me," I breathed out. "Please, don't hurt me. I'm sorry, Bill, I didn't meant to, I swear, please Bill." I didn't realise I was crying. I was trembling so much. Not again. No. Bill wouldn't hurt me like that. Not like _he_ did before.

Bill opened his mouth and began to utter his incantation. "Daddy did that!" I shouted. Immediately he stopped and stared but he didn't lower his hand.

"What?"

The air crackled in silence. They both looked at me with unreadable expressions. I fidgeted under their stares.

Moments passed and still no one spoke. The fire had died down into small embers flickering, like the light bulb in the kitchen, refusing to give way and die.

What did I just tell them? Bill wasn't going to hurt me. He wouldn't. He helped me. Thinking back to when Bill poised the stick to me he didn't look as if he was going to hurt me. The moment of panic reminiscent to previous similar occasions caused me to spill. I had to tell them otherwise who knew what was going to happen to me. Mum and dad did it, so what was stopping Bill? I was nothing to him compared to being a daughter to my parents.

"Your daddy, who is he? What does he do?" Nanny Anne asked. "And tell the truth Ella. We need to know."

Bill limped over to his armchair and sat, keeping his eyes to the floor. Nanny Anne moved to the side and I slowly walked passed her onto the sofa while she followed.

"Mum and dad told me not to say. Said people aren't supposed to know about our type. But you used the _Floo_. Only we can use it. Daddy used it all the time with his friends. And Bill, you have a wand! You're a wizard!" I said, the words flowing out of my mouth all at once. I couldn't stop. Nanny Anne was watching me with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"So you know?" Nanny Anne beamed. "Oh dear, that's lovely! Oh my, fantastic news, just…amazing!" she let out a giggle. I couldn't help but let one escape as well. We were fine.

The tension was gone in an instant. My earlier worries evaporated. _Woof!_ Jimmy ran around the room.

But Bill was still quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Bill?" I asked.

He looked up. "Ella…"

I walked across the room and stood in front of Bill. He sat up and held my hands.

"Ella, I'm sorry girl, so sorry, I didn' know and I- I'm sorry love."

"You had no reason to know Bill, it's fine," I smiled and lunged at him in a hug. It took him a few seconds but he reciprocated.

"Bill?" I said, my voice slightly muffled from his jumper.

"Hmm?"

"Were you…what were you going to do?"

"I wasn't goin' to hurt you love, never _ever_ will I hurt you," his arms tightened around me before he released me altogether, allowing me to climb in his lap. "You know much magic?"

I shook my head, "Only the things mum and dad did."

"I was only goin' to alter yer memory so you would forget seein' me use the Floo," Bill said.

"What's that called?"

"Obliviate."

Jimmy lay on the rug in front of the slowly dying fire, tired from the day's activities.

"Tell us about your family," Nanny Anne said.

My eyes strayed to the floor. I might as well, there's nothing else to hide. They had just proved that they wouldn't hurt me. I could trust them.

"My mum and dad are wizards. They went to that big magical school in Scotland-"

"Hogwarts," Bill interrupted.

"-yeah, that one. Mum was in the clever house…oh, what was it called again- Ravencaw!" ("Raven_claw_, Ella," Bill corrected.) "And dad…dad was in Slytherin. All his family were."

Bill went silent. I continued.

"Him and mum wanted me to be in Slytherin when I was old enough to go Hogwarts. Said they would be so proud for me to continue the legacy," I stopped, unsure of how to continue.

Both Bill and Nanny Anne waited patiently for me to carry on. I took a deep breath.

"My little sister, Abigail, she's three years younger than me, so she's five. Mum and dad had been waiting ages for me to show my first signs of magic; they say it happens spontaneously from a young age," I paused. "I never did. Abi wanted a story before bed one night. So she conjured one. From her bed," another pause. My voice was almost muted, choked on the lump lodged in my throat. "She used magic before me. Mum noticed this, of course, and asked me whether I used magic when she wasn't in the room. I said no. I heard her telling dad, and that maybe I was just a bit slow, but it would come to me eventually.

"They waited a bit longer – a few days I think – before they confronted me. I'd never heard them yell so loud. They told me they had their suspicions all along but they wanted to be sure. They told me how I was dishonouring the family. How I wasn't good enough, that they were ashamed of me. They blamed me for not being the perfect Slytherin daughter. I didn't even understand what they were talking about. I mean, I was still their daughter.

"They kept calling me a stupid squib, shouting it whenever I didn't answer one of their questions. All I could do was cry. I cried so much over how I disappointed my parents and I begged them to tell me how to make it up to them. But being the _Slytherins_ that they were they wanted nothing to do with me. So they did the first thing they could think of," I spat, glaring down at my hands clenched in my lap. Bill saw and covered a fist with his large rough hand. "They got rid of me. Chucked me out of the house straight after without any spare clothes or food. I don't know how long I spent on the streets on my own before you found me. Our house elf was treated better than I was," my tears blurred my vision so much that I couldn't make anything out. The large droplets fell on Bill's hand but he made no move to wipe it.

"I hate them. Daddy hurt me," I managed to choke out through my tears before the sobs took over. "He hurt me Bill, he did the bad curse."

Bill promptly wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, allowing me to cry into his chest. Soon after another pair of arms wrapped around us. Bill shuffled over on the armchair and Nanny Anne squeezed in beside him.

"I'm a squib," I muttered.

That night we all fell asleep on Bill's armchair embracing each other. We awoke impossibly sore with aching limbs but we all laughed it off. Our secrets were out in the open and we had nothing to hide anymore. The weight that was loaded on my shoulders since waking up on the sofa was lifted, and I felt light and happy.

All morning we couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces. Even Bill's scowl never lasted long after remembering my admitting that my dad had purposely hurt me. We were just so happy. Jimmy jumped and danced around the house with me. School didn't bother me, especially since Prunella made the wise decision to keep her distance. My time spent in the paper shop with Bill was full of laughter, and Nanny Anne and I danced to the radio while cooking that evening (she decided to teach me how to cook and make tea).

We were a real family now.


	4. Of Birthdays and Secrets

**Oh my gosh. I am so sorry for the late update, I had trouble getting this chapter started as it's a kind of filler; I don't want to rush into all the major stuff! So yeah, some small happy family action and some more Weasley twin! WooHoo! I'm guessing that's why you all bother to read this.**

**PS I've been stuck with the stomach bug all day and I've rushed this so I could move along and stop sleeping in guilt for not having worked on this. Please forgive the mistakes and whatnot. **

**On another note, I've update my bio (at last!) and I've got down some descriptions of my stories and I've written a bit about a muggle story (in which the character's are muggles) so if you could read it and tell me what you think I'd be so happy. If you don't like it then please say, I understand some people _hate_ the idea of non-canon stories but the World Cup really inspired me. Kind of.**

**Speaking of the World Cup, have any of my dear readers been watching it? And if so, who are you supporting?! Being from England and being British, I supported England until they got their rubbish butts out. Boo you! So yeah, I'm rooting for either Germany or France now. No real reason. I just like them.**

**And thanks to my new followers (makes me sound like I have a cult - I DON'T!) and _angel'slittledemon_. Also, thank you for the reviews _chocolatecheesecakes _and _SHSL Despair_, sorry if I disappointed you with Ella being a squib, I apologise to the ends of the earth.  
**

**Enough with this author's note now! **

* * *

Life after my confession was perfect.

Outside of school, now completely undisturbed by one Prunella Trunchball, I was able to spend my time freely with my carers. Nanny Anne kept me in the kitchen as often as she could, teaching me the wondrous secrets to her recipes and, most importantly, how to brew the perfect cuppa. The first time I removed the teabag without her reminding me, she squealed up until the point she was almost crying, ignoring the fact that my milk to water ratio was vastly off.

Bill was far more relaxed in that he allowed me to roam the village with Jimmy whenever I was supposed to be minding the paper shop with him. "Business is slow", he would say in response to my questioning gaze, "your soul's far too energetic and wild to be locked up inside with an old bear."

Not once did I complain.

I had not seen George in the time that followed my confession, but I was too full of this new unfamiliar joy to care. I was relishing in the feel of warm tingles when surrounded by my new family and friends. Zoe and Nate occupied a lot of my time, they even ventured spending many afternoons in my home. They grew so close to Nanny Anne and Bill that they became like a pair of surrogate children to them, coming in whenever they pleased and exchanging pleasantries (Zoe's greeting to Bill always went along the lines of, "Hello there grizzly ol' bear, nice to see you haven't mauled Ella dearest yet.").

But, as every child does, I only focused on the sunny side and did not once dwell on the darkness.

Because everyone knows, perfection never lasts long. Perhaps never at all even, we merely mask the horrors and shroud it in bright colours and glitter.

But a colourful monster doesn't remove its evil.

Nanny Anne's health was deteriorating by the day. She could barely stand for ten minutes – maybe less – before succumbing to a heavy coughing fit. Her physical health was also failing. She needed aid in a lot of areas she never needed before. Hanging the washing was no longer an option for her; the stretching to peg the clothes on the line hurt her ribs. Bill's pestering was wearing her thin, her constant need for independence in the domestic chores were being hounded upon and she didn't like it.

My nightmares returned in full force, the ones that haunted my days before being taken in by Nanny Anne and Bill. In these nightmares I was always trapped in a dark corner, surrounded by the sinister laugh I had encountered once before. It was imbedded in my mind, never to be forgotten, as if one day it would return and I would recognise it instantly, the laugh beckoning me over despite the chills it triggered down my spine. But I never could put a face to the laugh. I had never seen the man behind the laugh, so my mind, instead, drowned me in darkness. Why not brightness? When I was in such harmony myself, why couldn't my mind reflect this in my sleep? Did I subconsciously, not want myself to forget where and what I came from?

Evenings were spent questioning each other on our pasts. That night was never directly mentioned, we always skirted around it. I didn't have much to say, and when I could, I barely did. It's not as if I didn't trust them – on the contrary, I didn't want them to focus on that, I wanted us to move on, chase the sunset into the horizon so we would always be in the light.

I found out that Nanny Anne, unlike Bill, was a muggle. Her and Bill had fallen in love when he was on a mission for the Ministry of Magic, but because of the dark times with prejudices still running high, he took desperate measures to keep her safe: he quit magic, so as not to be found, and they hid. And where else but in the wonderful muggle village of Ottery St Catchpole where they still resided. Of course, he still used magic occasionally.

One night, Bill informed me of everything.

He told me that he used the Floo to keep in touch with other wizards, so he was kept updated on life on their side of the wall. During his explanation, he had a wistful glaze to his eyes. He missed his magical life. He mentioned that he always offered his assistance when needed, just to be involved in the action once again without actually jumping in himself. He couldn't risk endangering Anne's life by his own recklessness.

Not only Anne's, but the child they were planning to have. For months, when the threat of an attack was so slim it could barely even be considered, they tried. Bill was more hopeful than Anne and visited shops to see the Babygro's and cribs whenever he could. Every night he would dream of a tiny bundle wrapped in his or Nanny Anne's arms, so fragile that even a wisp of a finger on their cheek would seem hazardous.

Bill's face transformed during his story. We were all sat in our designated spaces around the living room, Jimmy lying beside me on the couch. Bill gazed deep into the fire, as if the dancing flames were re-enacting his tale, his lips tilted up ever so slightly showing a hint of a smile. And then he turned sombre.

The news came that they couldn't have children. Either Bill's biology wasn't fit enough or Nanny Anne's body rejected it. They never found out. And they never dwelled on it. But it took them years to get over.

The Floo was how he knew of the dark lord's rise. Once word got out that Voldemort was up and hunting, Bill deactivated his Floo altogether, his last way of communicating with his magical brothers and sister, and remained anxious in the dark, the shadows teasing and taunting the blood traitor. Bill had every right to be scared; he had committed the most heinous crime possible in the eyes of those who lionised the pureblood mania. He had fallen in love with a muggle. He married a muggle.

Bill had stopped talking then. I was too mesmerised by the tale and trying to keep every single detail fixed into my mind that I hadn't noticed. It wasn't until Bill slammed his hand on the table and suggested we go out to eat that I realised he didn't want to think back on the past anymore.

Finding out about the gruelling events Nanny Anne and Bill suffered through brought us even closer together. Bill, on the other hand, was found distancing himself sometimes. Maybe it was the thought that they were denied the ability to have children of their own that he perhaps, resented me. Thought of me as some sort of a pity replacement. But if that was the case, he never showed it. And I admired him greatly.

Bill was finally fed up with worry on Nanny Anne's intense coughing that he decided to take her to the doctors, after much nagging and pleading and dealing with her. I was left to watch the paper shop with Jimmy.

The twenty minutes I had been there were boring. Not one customer. The entire village was out wandering the streets and shopping on the somewhat sunny spring Saturday, yet none even glanced our way. Even Jimmy had thumped to the floor as there was nothing to be done.

"This is so boring!" I yelled, although the sound was muffled into my folded arms.

Jimmy whined in response.

Just as I was contemplating jumping off the counter and cannonballing onto some cushions, a distraction swaggered by outside the window in the form of a familiar shade of red.

"Jimmy! Look, there's George!"

Grabbing the key off the counter, I ran across the shop, Jimmy hot on my heels. After locking the door I tip toed as high as I could to catch a glimpse of that red head against the multitude of browns and blondes.

"George!" I yelled once I saw him. He didn't even flinch.

I tried again. "_George!_" He was getting further away now. I squeezed through the crowd and made my way to the side of the street where I could run more easily.

"George!" He was looking around him now. He looked left and right and even peered up ahead of him, but he didn't look back. "GEORGE! Westley! Er- no…Whitcombe? No, no, umm…" I was mumbling to myself now. Who mumbles while running?

I couldn't for the life of me understand why I was so desperate to see George. I didn't think I had missed him much what with everything going on. I was so caught up in my nightmares, Nanny Anne's increasing illness, and the past in general, that I found myself craving the cheerfulness that oozed out of George. It came naturally to him.

Only a few people were separating us now. Jimmy ran ahead of me and reached George, seizing his attention. George stopped walking and crouched down.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!"

His head snapped up and he caught my eye. A wide grin spread across his face. I stopped in front of them and bent over, hands on my knees to catch my breath.

George opened his mouth but I held up a finger, to which he closed it again and smirked, quirking an eyebrow.

Seconds later, which, in all honesty, could have been minutes, I stood up to my full height and smiled down at the still crouching George. "Hi there again."

"Why, hello," he smiled.

"Good boy Jimmy, thanks for stopping him. Phew, that was tiring. You could've stopped earlier y'know George. I wouldn't be so tired if you didn't."

George stood up and peered over my head. "You mean that shop a few doors down? Of course, very long indeed. Your poor little legs must've suffered greatly." His voice was dripping in sarcasm.

I frowned and turned to where he was looking. My mouth dropped. It was true. "What! You mean I ran three shops down! You're kidding me. But it seemed so long."

He laughed at my pout. "Don't worry darling, I'm sure it was terrible running through all those people."

I scrunched my nose at him. "Why did you call me that?"

"What, 'darling'?" he asked.

"Yes, 'darling'," I mimicked, consciously shivering at the word as if it sickened me.

"Oh, it's what my brother calls his friend. She's a girl too. I thought it was normal," he rubbed his ear.

"Oh."

"Yep."

"Well don't, it's what Nanny Anne calls me. Makes me feel like a baby. Just call me Ella, no nicknames."

He chuckled. "But nicknames are fun! Ella's so boring."

I gasped. "No it's not! George is definitely way more boring. And besides, there was a princess named Ella."

"Oh yeah, and who told you that?"

"Nanny Anne. Well…her name was sort of Ella. It was Cinderella…and yes that counts!"

"Pfft, I beg to differ, _darling._" He winked that obnoxious, arrogant wink. God, I did not miss that.

I closed my eyes and let out a few deep breaths before opening them again. I smiled. "So I never see you in school. Don't you go?"

"Aw, you look for me in school? How sweet of you!" He chuckled when I slapped his arm. "No, I don't. Mum home schools us. Has done for all of us."

We began walking aimlessly through the street.

"Oh. So, how many of you Weasley's are there?" I asked.

He grinned. "Seven."

Once again, my mouth fell open and my eyes bugged out of my head. "Seven…?" I mouthed.

"Yup. There's Bill, the oldest-"

"My da-" my breath caught and I faltered to correct myself, "My uncle's called Bill."

"-yeah, how nice, after Bill there's Charlie, they're the coolest, then Percy the pompous prat," I sniggered at his description, "then Fred, and then yours truly, George Fabian Weasley, the best one, followed by wittle Ron and then baby Ginny. But she's not a baby."

I was speechless. "Wow," was all I managed as I pictured the large family of red heads. Poor Ginny, the only girl (and the youngest for that as well!) having to put up with the testosterone filled house of boisterous boys.

"Yup," he popped.

We were greeted with the luscious scent of fresh bread and sweet cakes, and I looked up to see the familiar sign of Imogen's Bakery. I rushed inside, Jimmy stopping at his usual spot by the bench.

"Hello Immy," I greeted the baker.

"Hello there Ella," Immy smiled. "Who's your friend there?"

I raised my hand to George, "This here's George. George, Immy the best baker ever. She's the one who gave me the cupcake which you _stole_," I glowered at him, recalling the last time we met.

He chuckled, "Nice to meet you Immy. And may I say, what a splendid cupcake that was."

"Kiss up," I muttered, only to be elbowed in the arm by George.

"Why thank you George. But if you ever want one, you come straight here now, no more stealing," Immy wagged her finger. But she couldn't have looked mean if she was the boogeyman himself.

"Understood," he saluted.

I beamed up at Immy, "So, lovely Immy, with her fantastic, absolutely _amazing_ baking skill-"

Before I could finish my sentence she rolled her eyes and held her hands out to us, a cupcake in each hand. We snatched them up quickly. "Thanks Immy," I called, running out.

"Cheers," George yelled as he followed me.

"So Georgie-" I swallowed the lump of cupcake in my mouth.

"-It's _George._"

"-How old are you?" I asked.

"Nine. Ten in a couple of weeks," he puffed his chest out. I poked him in the side and he recoiled with a wince. "What about you?"

"Eight. Nine in about…" I counted on my fingers and gasped when I realised, "Oh! Only in five days." How could I forget my birthday?

George stopped rubbing his side and his mock pout was replaced by a large smile. "Really? What are you going to do?"

I shrugged, "Probably nothing. Nanny Anne's not feeling too well and I don't want to trouble her. Maybe invite my friends around, eat cake," I waved my hand behind me to Imogen's Bakery. "I'm not really excited. What about yours?"

It was a fat lie. I used to love birthdays. My sister would always wake me up by jumping on my bed, screaming 'Happy Birthday' until her throat could handle no more. Breakfast was never a completely pleasant affair. Requesting pancakes with the picture perfect face of innocence, my mother would tighten her lips and shake her head, putting forward a plate of fruit or a bowl of cereal, saying how I would eat twice my fill later. The day would be spent at some fancy outing, whether it be a beach near the Somerset holiday home, a zoo or a shopping trip – the one thing I could do without. Dad would've been busy throughout the day organising the birthday ball that was to occur in the evening – another thing I despised. But before that, presents!

"Party with the Weasley's, what else?" George said. "Bill and Charlie go to a boarding school in Scotland, so they won't be here which ruins it slightly. But Fred and I will be the life of the party."

We sat down on the bench. "What do you normally do?"

He shoved the half of the cupcake left in his mouth, leaving remnants hanging off around his mouth and chin and a slight smudge of cream on his nose. "Mum goes all out for meals, makes our favourites. We play a bit in the garden and field, feed the chickens-"

"-you have chickens!" my voice came out more shrill than I would have liked. George just gave me a look that clearly said what-on-god's-green-and-blue-earth-is-wrong-with-you.

"Yeah…anyway, we do that, then presents and…that's about it I guess. We just spend time together and dance, and party, and eat. Oh, and Fred and I play pranks."

"Oh, I bet your mum hates that." I know mine would.

He laughed. "You have no idea."

The afternoon was spent with George regaling me with stories of past pranks and birthdays. Every memory was told in such detail I was sure that if I closed my eyes I could picture it vividly, as if being there and witnessing it for myself. The family gathered around the cramped table, tearing the wrapping off presents and getting just what you wanted, stuffing yourself at every meal just because you enjoyed it immensely, blowing the candles off the cake with all your siblings, slapping the cake in each other's faces (a lifelong dream of mine), the firework show at the end of the night after a day of mischief and love…

And just for a second, I imagined myself being in George's position.

Nanny Anne and Bill sat on the sofa together, both wearing grim expressions. I placed their tea on the table and sat on the armchair opposite.

I waited with baited breath for them to speak.

Upon returning home from the doctors, the two returned to their daily jobs, Nanny Anne escaping to the kitchen and Bill mumbling about checking on the shop. Neither had spoken much during dinner, nor did they look at each other, much less me. I didn't ask what was wrong, sure that they would say when they were ready. After all, it was indoctrinated in me from a young age not to question my elders if they were not keen in sharing information. Maybe they were tired, I kept telling myself. But they would have said something.

The silence dragged on, so much so that it became deafening. Could it be that no sound at all can cause the mind to suffocate just as much, or maybe more than, a barrage of noise? Well, whatever the odds it was for me. And I couldn't handle it another second…

"Ella, why don't you go on up to bed love," Nanny Anne smiled sweetly at me.

I blinked. Were they not going to tell me? There was blatantly something wrong. But I couldn't force them to say. I nodded and offered a smile back. Giving them each a kiss on the cheek, I went up to bed, pondering the possible concerns.

Awaking on the 20th March was different than I thought it would be. No familiar sinking of the bed to alert me to Abigail's presence, her shaking me and rolling around trying to rouse me from my bed. No dancing to some band she adored.

But what I did wake up to was another nightmare. The same one with the ominous laughter. But this time there was something else. A snake. A large snake, slithering in front of me, barely noticeable in the darkness but so close that its eyes glowed and casted a green light. It did nothing, just stared back.

I shivered upon thinking back on the sense of foreboding the snake seemed to bring.

I sighed and got up.

I saw George again a few days after our catch up outside Imogen's Bakery. He came into the paper shop seeking me out just to promise me that he'd try to visit on my birthday. He said he was busy, what with his home schooling and his trying to get out with his mum's permission (in other words, sneaking out). Apparently his mum only ever let them venture into the village to get supplies from the shops. I thought she must've been worried about the influence her kids – ahem, _George_ – would have on the other kids. From what I'd heard, he was terribly persistent in teasing others and pranking until he laughed his throat hoarse.

"Mornin' Nanny," I said around the yawn breaking through, and sat myself down at the table, the smell of breakfast clearing my mind.

"Good morning Ella, have a nice sleep?"

I nodded. My eyes widened in surprise when Nanny Anne placed my breakfast in front of me. There, on the table, sat a plate stacked up high with steaming pancakes, smothered in the chocolate sauce and sugar and lemon juice with a lone candle sticking out. My mouth salivated as I sat transfixed, my gaze not unwavering.

Nanny Anne chuckled. "You'd better start eating before it gets cold love."

And so I dived in, briefly halting to blow out the candle. Best birthday breakfast ever.

Bill limped into the room and threw a glance my way. "Damn, girl got started before me. Oi, don't you be eatin' all them pancakes now girl, leave some for ol' bear."

But I barely heard him, too busy shoving mouthful after mouthful of pancakes into my gob. My jaw began to ache from the incessant chewing and I could vaguely feel sauce dripping down my chin.

Bill and Nanny Anne began saying something else to me but I wasn't paying any attention. God, these pancakes were good.

"Hey! Thanks for waiting Ella-butt."

The familiar chastise did not distract me from my breakfast. I muttered a, "sorry," through my chewing, causing Bill to laugh. Zoe sat at the table and frowned at me before digging into her own plate of pancakes with as much fervour as me.

"Oh, my dear sweet god that was glorious. Nanny Anne, you outdid yourself, I applaud you," I huffed, clapping to Nanny Anne who curtsied. Zoe joined in eagerly.

She then leaped on me with so much force my chair fell back, taking us both with it. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLA!" she screamed into my ear.

From my position underneath her I could not do much but try and push her off. "Ge'roff Zo, I'm dying here."

"Sure, sure whatever," she said and stood up. "Oh, hello there Jimmy! I didn't see you there, sleeping in your wittle bed…" she continued to coo to Jimmy, leaving me on the floor with my arms outstretched. Well, rude.

"Where's Nate?" I asked.

"He's busy with his mum, I think she wants to come as well and he's trying his hardest to tell her to bugger off- sorry Nanny Anne," she said.

I grimaced. "Oh, please no Mrs Pike. I don't think I can handle her today."

Mrs Pike was an overly affectionate woman, the type who squished your cheeks and printed a stain of her bright red lipstick on your skin like that aunt no one liked and was slightly senile. Lovely, but mad.

"Let's hope Nate gets her claws away from him," Bill mumbled. Zoe and I giggled. It was no secret that Mrs Pike had been promiscuous in her time, and her habits did not die along with her husband (no one was actually sure what happened to him but no one dared asked). She flirted with every male she saw fit, Bill included.

"At least I know my man's still got it," Nanny Anne sung from her seat. Bill spluttered on his tea and it spilled all over his front.

Zoe and I dissolved into fits of laughter.

"Come on Ella, Nate, we're going to be late!"

Nate and I followed Zoe home. Nate arrived soon after breakfast, thankfully without his mum, and we spent the day with Jimmy in the village. We got cookies from Imogen's Bakery and played in the park where we spent most of our day. It wasn't extravagant or anything spectacular, but it was comfortable. I learned that I didn't need lavish gifts and clothes, to flaunt money to other people to be happy. Happiness came from the company you keep.

"Slow down Zo, you'd think it was your birthday and not Ella's," Nate called.

We made it home and shoved each other aside to be the first one in. Flicking the light on the room erupted in noise and colour.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

My mouth hung wide open as I stared the room and all its occupants. Half the village looked to be squeezed every available space, all wearing a party hat and some with fake moustaches. A banner across the ceiling that read '_Happy Birthday'_ shone brightly. Strands of confetti and party poppers littered the ground and surfaces. In the arms of Mr Dicks and Mrs Pike was a giant cake smothered in chocolate cream and candles.

I couldn't comprehend the feeling of elation that swept over me and consumed every inch of me. Looking around at all the faces I felt my eyes swell with tears and my mouth widen into a smile. These people, these wonderful, strange people, despite knowing me for all of three months cared about me enough to drop their plans and spend an evening celebrating my birth. They cared that I was alive, that I had been born.

"Ella, you alright darling?" Nanny Anne's voice called out.

I saw her sitting in her armchair, Bill perched on the arm with his arm around her shoulders, both watching me curiously. Without thinking I flung myself at them and wrapped them in a group hug.

"Thank you, thank you so much," I said, forcefully blinking away my tears. "I love you both."

It was the first time I had said it and I couldn't be more honest. The two had swiftly replaced my own parents without even putting in much effort. They cared and looked after me when it wasn't their place to, they had no need to take me in. I wasn't their responsibility. But I couldn't be more grateful that they stumbled upon me in the snow. Thinking back on life before Nanny Anne and Bill, I seemed so empty, living my life in the repetitive routine I familiarised so well I had no need to think about it. No questioning, I wonder what I'm going to do today, to myself. But here…here there were always surprised. The paper shop was Bill's second priority. His family came first and he never failed to shower us in spontaneous surprises. Just the other day he Flooed us all to a small wizard café for brunch. No reason, just.

Their arms tightened around me. "We love you too darling, so much."

I pulled away after a moment and laughed, giddy on absolute happiness. Turning to Mr Dicks and Mrs Pike, I beckoned Zoe and Nate forwards. Grabbing one of their hands each, we counted to three and together, blew out the candles. The small fires burned out to booming applause and whistles.

We giggled and bowed to the crowd, Jimmy jumping up on his haunches and barking in the background.

"What did you wish for Ella?"

I smiled knowingly and tapped my nose. I threw an arm around Zoe and Nate and hugged them close.

"You guys are the best," I whispered.

"Oh Ella, we know," Zoe said. We succumbed into laughter once more.

"Cake time!"

I sighed contentedly as I lay in bed, my mind and body still wide awake from the sugar rush or the late night partying, I couldn't tell. But no way was I in any mood to sleep. I wasn't going to forget a second of this day.

A thudding noise vibrated through the air. Sitting up abruptly, I glanced around the room. Jimmy wasn't in here tonight, for he had slumped into bed as soon as the last guests left and refused to budge.

Telling myself it was a stray cat outside, I returned to my thoughts of my birthday, comparing it to past birthdays. Well, it didn't compare to be honest; this birthday was simpler but so full of love.

Another thud. I sat up again and moved to the window hesitantly. Was someone coming to kill me? Was it someone who wasn't invited or didn't come to the party?

My internal worrying vanished when I heard the voice.

"Ella!" it called.

A stone hit the window right where my face was and I jumped back. Pushing aside the net curtain I peered down.

"George?" I said incredulously. No way was he here now. I opened my window. "What are you doing?"

"I promised I'd be here, so ta-da! I'm here," he grinned up at me.

"But it's so late. You didn't have to," I said, even though I was secretly glad he made the effort. This day was just bursting and oozing and showered and sprinkled with love.

"Of course I had to, I promised and that's that. Now, are you going to let me in or what?"

I sighed. I gripped my nose between my finger and thumb and released a deep breath. Well, I wasn't sleepy yet. "Stand by the door."

Shutting my window, I pulled on my slippers and slipped out the door as quietly as I could. Bill's snored carried through the silence, assuring me of his deep slumber. I crept down the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky step and tip toed to the door. Upon opening it I was met with a mischievous smirk.

"Took your time," he said.

"Same could be said for you," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.

George snorted. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

He entered the house and followed me into the kitchen. Removing the lid from the dish, I cut a slice of cake and passed it to George. He ate in silence, murmuring noises of delight.

"You're such a messy eater," I said, watching the chocolate stuck on his cheek just below his eye.

He crossed his eyes. "Where?" His tongue swept across his lips and then stretched to cover his chin and face, almost touching his nose.

I chuckled and handed him a tissue. After he wiped his face clean he grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"Happy birthday Ella," he grinned, and pulled out an object wrapped in newspaper from his pocket. On it, was a small sticky note with my name in orange. "Because of my hair," he said when I voiced my question as to the colour.

I tore open the newspaper to find a shiny red apple. I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand to avoid making much noise. It wasn't even that funny. George joined my laughter and I had to forcefully push him out the front door before he woke up the inhabitants of the house. He yelled out a quick, "Thanks for the cake," and another, "Happy birthday," before disappearing.

I clutched the apple in my hands and hugged it to my chest. A small giggle escaped my lips and I took a bite.

Oh yes, definitely better than the green ones.


	5. My Sunshine and Rainstorm

**There is not excuse for me delaying the post of this chapter. I'm so sorry. It's been a mixture of laziness on my behalf and also a case of vocabulary block (my term for knowing what I want to say but the words are flying around so fast in my head I can't catch them). College is over for the summer (has been for a week) so you'd think I'd spent most of my free time writing and typing but I've been busy - lazy - and also fasting has started! Meaning for 18 hours from sunrise to sunset I can't eat or drink. This has always taken a toll on my thinking but I've managed to control it enough to get this chapter through.**

**Shorter than my previous chapters but it seemed a good place to stop. I'm not completely happy with the ending (not enough feels!) but it'll have to do.**

**And just a reminder: Ella is 9yrs and George is 10yrs so they're still kids but how I present them is how children behaved when I was that age (i.e. far too old for their age but I'm toning it down).**

**As always, feedback is much appreciated! On anything. Seriously. Drop me a review on the weather if you must. I like getting to know my readers!**

**PS. on my last chapter I did include breaks between time changes but they didn't show up - boooo! Sorry if that confused anyone.**

**Enjoy :)**

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"It's alright Jimmy, everything's going to be ok. I promise," I crooned to the whimpering dog on our sofa, huddled beneath the blanket with me.

Bill was at the hospital with Nanny Anne. She suffered another one of her terrible coughing spasms, but this one was much worse than her usual ones. This time there was blood.

Nanny Anne was incessantly coughing up blood. She had been essentially bed ridden for weeks, unable to move in fear of her legs passing out on her, but tonight she had insisted she was feeling better and joined us down in the living room. She hadn't even made it completely through the archway before she bowled over.

I looked out of the corner of my eye, praying that what I was seeing was a figment of my imagination, hoping that my mind had finally spiralled out of normalcy from the weight of my nightmares and stress and I was now seeing things.

The blood stain on the carpet.

I buried my face in Jimmy's fur. "Don't worry Jimmy, she's strong, she won't give up," I reassured myself as well as Jimmy. Silent tears streaked down my face.

The scene was still so intense in my mind, swimming behind my eyelids no matter how hard I tried to press my eyes shut. I recalled seeing Bill leap across the room, his limp preventing him from reaching Nanny Anne before she dropped to her knees. In his hysterical state he hadn't thought to use the Floo, so I used the rarely used telephone and called an ambulance. I remembered waiting, the time dragging on for what felt like hours as I stared horrified, for the ambulance to arrive. The paramedics rushed to get Nanny Anne away; Bill refusing to leave her.

The only thought that ran through my mind was that she was dying. She was losing more and more blood with each cough. This was it. I was losing her just as fast as I got her.

ᴥ

By morning the entire village heard of Nanny Anne's stay at the hospital. Letters upon letters flooded through the letter box, covering the floor in a mound of paper and card. The shrill ringing of the phone beside my head woke me up and I fumbled out of the blanket to answer it.

"Hello?" my voice croaked.

"Ella," Bill's voice rang out, "you alrigh'?"

"How is she?" I asked.

He sighed. "She's…ok. The doctors want her to stay a li'l longer, say she's not takin' too kindly to the medication," his voice was hoarse and weak. I couldn't bring myself to speak. How ok was 'ok'? Was she stable? Was she improving? Was she getting worse…? I didn't dare ask. The fear that the thought momentarily brought me made me shiver. I needed to see her. "I'm goin' ta stay with her until she's able to come home. You can stay with Zoe or Nate if yer like."

"When can I see her?"

Bill hesitated. "Go to Zoe's and then get Mrs Brimble to drop you off after lunch, alrigh'? How does tha' sound to yer?"

I nodded before realising he couldn't see through the telephone. "Ok." He hung up.

Putting the phone down, I turned to Jimmy. He was gazing up with his large brown eyes, lying in silence. I ran my fingers through his fur once then got off the sofa, stretching my aching muscles.

"Come on Jimbo, sleepover at Zo's."

ᴥ

The blinding white of the walls and the sickly clean smell of antiseptic churned my stomach, threatening to release the lunch of sandwiches I had nibbled on.

I followed the directions on the walls to room 42 in the Dunlop ward in the cardiac centre: Nanny Anne's room.

_Room 38…Tea room…Room 39_

Nurses and doctors bustled past without a second glance to the small child wandering the narrow halls, each focusing on clipboards and trollies, as if the short gap between the life and death of people did not rest in their hands.

The posters on the walls displayed images of body organs, each with slogans, statistics and deadly warnings. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with a C," "Breast is best," and "Don't drink yourself fat," were just some I glanced over. The images varied from hauntingly scary to colourful and cheery; the contradiction burning the back of my throat.

One picture of a girl chugging a jar of oil reminisced Nanny Anne, with pink froth cascading down her chin. I cringed.

_Room 40…Room 41…Waiting Room_

My heart was beating wildly in my chest. Why was I worried? Bill said she was ok. She was fine. Pink froth and stained carpet flashed in my mind. _That's not fine. _I shook my head. Positive thoughts…positive.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I rounded the corner and I hastily wiped it off. No need to cry, I told myself, she's _fine, _I chanted, _she's fine, she's fine, she's fine. _She's at the hospital now. The doctors are fixing her. They won't let her go…they won't let her die-

_Room 42…_

With a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The first thing I noticed was the sound of consistent beeping. Then it was the darkness. The room was much darker than the rest of the hospital but the white walls and fluorescent lamp highlighted the silhouettes of two figures.

I walked over to the bed, my gaze never leaving Nanny Anne's form. She didn't look much better than when she was taken: her face a deathly pale covered in a light coating of sweat; her wrinkles and veins prominent; her greying blonde hair straggly.

"Ella, darling, how nice to see you," Nanny Anne greeted, her smile looking more like a grimace.

"Hi, Nanny. How are you?" I was ashamed at how small my voice came out. Here I was, visiting Nanny Anne and I was the one sounding sick. Pathetic. I cleared my throat, determined to be strong.

"I'm ok, love. How's Jimmy?"

"He's not too good," I replied honestly.

Jimmy was possibly in a state worse than me. He resisted moving all morning, finally moving when I was almost reduced to tears from frustration. Once we arrived at the front door of the Brimble house, ushered in by the ever-fussing Mrs Brimble, Jimmy trotted into the garden and stayed there unmoving. He refused to even eat, only showing signs of life with a twitch of his ear when someone mentioned Nanny Anne or Bill.

"Silly pup, knows I'm going to be fine and yet he still makes a fuss," Nanny Anne sighed, holding my hand with shaky fingers.

"Are you?" I asked, "Going to be fine?"

She breathed out a laugh. "Of course I am, darling."

A snore broke the air and I looked over to see Bill sleeping in his chair, his chin drooping down on his chest.

"Wouldn't sleep all night, the old fart," Nanny Anne smiled, looking over at Bill. "Big old bear worries too much."

We spent the afternoon talking about nothing, carefully avoiding the topic of Nanny Anne's diagnosis, before a yawn escaped my lips. I waved Nanny Anne off when she told me to go home and sleep. I was too happy being with her; I didn't want to leave. I was determined to stay with her for as long as I could. Despite her shrugging her health off, she wasn't fine. She wasn't well.

"Ella," Bill muttered, blinking his eyes open, "When d'you get here?"

"A while ago," I said.

"You girls hungry? Want anythin' to eat?" He asked.

"We're fine, love. Ella should be going now though," Nanny Anne said, pointedly looking at me.

"No, I don't want-"

"Alrigh', let me walk you out," Bill stood up and walked out the room, patting Nanny Anne's shoulder as he passed.

"But I-"

"Now, now, Ella," Nanny Anne cut me off, "I'll be home in no time. Don't worry, you go and keep Jimmy some company."

"But he's with Zoe," I couldn't help but whine.

"Ella," her voice was stern, greatly contrasting her weak body, "you need to go, darling. It won't be long until I'm home."

"You promise?"

Nanny Anne patted my hand. "Promise."

I met Bill outside room 42.

"I'll come home when Anne's fit to come. Otherwise I'll be stayin' with her. You'll be alrigh'?" He asked as we walked through the hallways.

I nodded. "What's wrong with her?"

He sighed and put an arm loosely around my shoulders. "Her heart hasn't been good. A few years ago she had a heart attack. Doctor says it's made it weak, and that it caused her to cough up…you know. So they're gonna do some tests and if she's fine she'll be allowed home."

We stopped in the entrance and I looked up at Bill. "She will be fine Ella. Don't you worry 'bout yer Nanny, she's been through hell an' back, and she won' let somethin' like this take her away. Not from you. Not when she jus' got you." We shared a brief awkward hug. "Look after Jimmy."

ᴥ

Bill and Nanny Anne were both right when they said they'd be home soon. I was at the Brimble household for a few days before Bill came to get me and Jimmy. Jimmy ran all the way home and jumped on Nanny Anne and refused to leave her side for days.

Her health over the year stayed stable and she was able to continue her chores as usual. She would have odd days where she would stay in bed and her coughs would start up again but a few visits to the doctor and she'd be right as rain again. Well, as right as she could be with the state of her weak heart. The doctor made home visits to check up on her often; the prognosis always coming up positive. After the third visit he even bought sweets for me, saying how I deserved it for being the best carer for Nanny Anne. I spent most of my time with her after school and even Bill took hours off work from the paper shop to stay at home with us.

I saw George again in the village one day, and almost burst out in tears. Seeing his familiar face and warm smile, and even his annoyingly twitchy wink was a blessing after having witnessed a vicious coughing attack from Nanny Anne that afternoon.

We walked through the village and raced up a tree in the park. I was beating him but he kept pulling me down by my ankle.

"Cheating sod," I grumbled as I swung my legs on either side of the branch. He had made it up first and was leaning against the bark, arms folded behind his head.

"Don't be jealous, Cinderella. Now then, tell me your woes, oh young one." He had taken it upon himself to call me Cinderella after I told him the story of the fairy-tale princess a few weeks back.

"I'm not much younger than you, Georgie."

"A year younger, baby Cinderella," he teased.

"Shut up."

He kicked my knee with his outstretched leg. I sighed. "Nanny Anne's still not well." On our last encounter I was incredibly glum and he made me tell him what was bothering me. He even went so far as to take me to the bakery for a cupcake.

"Ah, I see. She getting worse?"

"No, the doctor says she's fine. Ugh, I hate that word. _Fine,_" I spat. "Everything's _fine_, Nanny Anne's _fine_, don't worry Ella, even if she is dying, it won't matter, 'cos everything is _bloody_ _fine._" I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands.

George sniggered. "Ooh, Princess Cinderella said a bad word!"

"Oh my God- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to."

"It's fine, honestly Ella. I've heard worse. Remember? Six other siblings," George smiled.

"Don't tell anyone," I said.

"Cross my heart," he rolled his eyes and made a cross across his chest with his finger. "But seriously, if everyone says she's fine, and if she's acting normally, there doesn't seem to be any reason for you to worry, Elle." That nickname I could tolerate.

"But it won't just go away will it? Whatever's hurting her heart," I muttered. I felt uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation; never before had we spent so long discussing Nanny Anne. George would always turn the conversation around when we spoke too much of anything sad and glum. But that was just George: all round happy. Always smiling. Apart from the days where the happiness radiated through our home and Nanny Anne was having a good day, George was the only other thing that truly bought a smile to my face. Zoe and Nate were far too busy with their schoolwork and other friends (and in Zoe's case her brothers) to spend much time with me. And if they did, they would spend the evenings holed up with Nanny Anne and Bill as well.

"Hey, wanna hear what scandalous accident Perce had the other day?" he asked with his signature cheeky grin. And just like that he was intensely regaling the tale of another of Percy's woes, his arms waving around himself and the grin never leaving his face. This time, he and Fred, his closest brother and partner in crime, had pranked Percy by pouring soap into his morning juice and emptying a jar of ants onto his pancakes. Tears were threatening to pour down my face, for the first time in what felt like forever from mirth rather than fear. My ribs and cheeks ached and my laughter simmered into silence from the lack of air in my lungs after George's impersonation of his brother's reaction. He followed this by imitating his mother's response, wagging his finger and stomping on the branch, all the while shaking his butt – as he claimed his mother did when frustrated.

"Come on Cinderella, let's get something to eat," George said once we had both calmed down.

I lifted my head off his shoulder. "Last one down's a rotten egg!" I scrambled to my feet and instantly rushed down the tree. I heard a mumbled yell from George before my feet touched the ground and I jumped in joy.

George joined me moments later. "Oi, you cheated!" he huffed, but the smile on his face gave away his annoyance.

"Now we're even," I tweaked his nose and turned to walk out the park.

We made it to the fruit stall within minutes, George hurriedly checking the time on the big clock in the square every once in a while.

"Hello Mr Babbington," I greeted the sandy blonde behind the counter. George sniggered behind me and I stamped his foot to silence him. God, that boy was really rude sometimes.

"Oh, hello Ella. How's Anne doing?" he asked with a handsome smile.

I shrugged. "Same." I never delved into too much detail of Nanny Anne's wellbeing when asked by the other villagers. It wasn't that it made me uncomfortable, but it was more due to the fact that hardly anyone genuinely seemed to care. No one even visited anymore to check up on her. "Where's Mr Dicks today?"

George snorted out loud and I elbowed him harshly when Mr Babbington had his back turned. "Mr Dicks? Is that real?" Even without looking at his face I could hear the unbidden laughter in his smile. "I don't think it's possible to get a surname worse than _Dicks._"

"Don't be so rude _Weasley_," I hissed under my breath.

"Oh, Dicky," George sniggered again and muffled his laughter by stuffing a fist in his mouth. What was so funny? "He's out fishing today, wanted to enjoy the weather while it lasts."

I nodded and took the two apples from him. I held out the green apple to George with my nose scrunched up; I still couldn't understand how someone could favour green apples over red. "Actually," George said, eyeing the apple I held out to him, "can I have a red one instead?"

It took me a few seconds to take in what he requested. I stumbled over my words before letting out a strange noise that sounded a mixture of a high pitched warble and a groan. Swapping the green apple for a red one and handing it to George, I watched as he took a great bite, successfully dripping juice down his chin.

"What?" he asked, his voice muffled.

I was still in shock. "But I- you said…green…but red…what?"

George chuckled. "What can I say? Red's growing on me."

If I wasn't rooted to the spot in disbelief I would've slapped him for giving me that damn wink.

ᴥ

Waiting was something I grew to hate. Loathe. Dread. Despise. Detest. Abhor. It was all I seemed to be doing. Waiting meant there was time to think. And thinking was something I could really do without. Even the fairy-tale book I had open on my lap couldn't hold my concentration for more than half a sentence.

This morning seemed a lifetime away. Dancing in the kitchen by the stove as I flipped pancakes – unsuccessfully – while Bill twirled Nanny Anne around to the radio and Jimmy jumped around. We were having one of our good days, where the sun shined in through the large kitchen window and birds sung to their hearts content. George had even dropped by, albeit only for a few minutes – enough for him to inhale half the pancakes and leave with chocolate syrup all over his face. It was just like the first time he had officially met Nanny Anne and Bill all those months ago, but without the nervous worry of them approving of him as my friend. I remember desperately needing them to like him; he was my sunshine in the gloomy world of heart disease and my hidden past.

But now…now he was family to them. My worrying had been pointless. Nanny Anne absolutely loved George and all his wittiness, and even Bill loved hearing the a few tales of his most famous – infamous to his family – pranks.

"Well aren't you a little devil, eh," Nanny Anne smiled to George as he puffed out his chest and gave his most angelic face.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean dearest Anne."

She chuckled. "Little devil and a charmer, always getting yourself into and out of trouble. What are we going to do with you George?"

"Carry on feeding me those delicious pancakes of yours would be a good start," he jibed. The table erupted into laughter again.

He rushed out soon after demolishing breakfast, claiming his mum had been expecting the milk to arrive ten minutes ago. He left with Nanny Anne calling out for him to invite his family around to dinner one day, just like she always did.

I flicked the page over and started on the fairy-tale story of 'Cinderella'. I'd read it so many times since Nanny Anne gave me the book that I could remember it by heart. But still I read on, relishing in the familiar words and sweetness of the tale.

The afternoon was drastically different to the morning. Nanny Anne was seated on her armchair for hours before Bill rushed her to the hospital. He said she looked weak and, on the doctor's orders, had to take her in for signs of any irregularities. Nanny Anne squeezed a lingering hug to me on her way out and peppered my face in kisses, breathing out, "I love you," between each one. The gesture, although sweet, bought a foreboding sense of finality. I couldn't let go of her and it took Bill to drag us apart for me to retreat to the pistachio-green sofa. No matter how I looked and analysed her behaviour the same thought spun around in my head.

That was goodbye.

It had been a good four hours since the two had left. No one called so I had no idea what to think. And when there was no news, my mind tended to spiral to the worst case scenario. But I couldn't afford to think like that, not now. Instead I directed my thoughts to family outings over the year. The picnic we had in the garden last week came first into mind. We laid out a vibrant red blanket on the overgrown grass and emptied the basket full of sandwiches, fruit and chicken drumsticks. The clouds were hovering over the sun that day and darkened to a miserable grey, threatening the arrival of rain. Zoe and Nate were invited and we all sat down and ate and laughed and sang songs until the heavens opened and rain showered down over the village. It was one of the few days we all got to spend together and not even the rain could burst our bubble of bliss.

A smile tugged on my lips as I thought back to Bill and Nanny Anne hurriedly packing the remnants of food while Jimmy bit onto Nate's jumper and dragged him further out into the garden. Zoe jumped on my back, wrapped her long legs around my waist and arms around my neck and shouted nonsense up to the sky. I twirled around until we collapsed, dirtying our clothes in the process. We rested in the mud, catching our breaths before leaping up and throwing mud balls on Nate.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening snapped me out of my daze. She had to be ok. Boots shuffled on the hardwood floor and keys jingled. My eyes were locked onto the archway, praying that they would hurry on through and relieve me from my internal worrying. Jimmy, who had been resting on the floor by the fireplace, was now watching the archway intently as well. He soon got impatient and trotted out the room to meet the guest.

Seconds past and finally Jimmy came back in, resuming his space by the fireplace and buried his nose in his paws. Was that good or bad?

Turning back to the archway, I saw the shadow before the figure. My eyes never leaved him as he lazily limped to his armchair, keeping his gaze downcast. He slumped down in his seat. No other noise was made or heard. Not even the wind dared to whistle through the village.

I looked at the occupants in the room and felt my heart, like Bill, slump down into nothing.

Nanny Anne wasn't coming home.


	6. Breaking

**Bit of a slow chapter but I felt it was a good place to stop.**

**WHO SAW THE GERMANY-BRAZIL MATCH?! I laughed through the entire thing. GO GERMANY! But poor Oscar, the commentators saying it was the most pointless goal in the whole World Cup. At least he scored one when Ozil completely missed!**

**Sorry, I get carried away with football. Shall I speak of the Tour de France and how it went past my borough and near my house? My friend and brother were right there!**

**Thank you to _0-MischiefManaged-0, MarineAstriella_ and _SingMeASong4 _for the follows, favourites and reviews! Especially to _MarineAstriella _for the lovely review and PM's.**

**Also thank you to Guest (Charlotte) for the amazing review! Yes, I know the kiddies are slightly (very) mature for their age but as I mentioned in my last AN, I'm basing it on my own childhood maturity which, obviously, is not normal. I hope I've toned it down a bit in this chapter. And my writing is nowhere as good as others, check out _chocolatecheesecakes, jazzerciser _and _cheeseandoerosHP _stories! Seriously amazing. They inspire me on this so much.**

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The suns orange rays beat down on the village of Ottery St Catchpole, bathing the town in the summer warmth. Children's laughter and joyful songs stretched from one side of the village to the other, presenting the picture perfect scene. But the murky red curtains blocked the suns powerful rare beams, suspending the room in darkness. Outside voices were muffled from the closed windows and doors. I didn't want to participate in the festivities and by barring myself indoors away from any other forms of life, I was successful.

A dark cloud loomed over the house ever since Bill arrived home alone that night mere days ago. The absence of Nanny Anne had taken its toll on all the occupants of the house; I reserved myself to my room; Jimmy divided his time between sleeping and visiting the neighbours for food and Bill…Bill was in a state worse than death.

Even underneath the blanket and pillows my mind could not rest. Dry tears marked the fabric from hours on end of relentless crying, sobbing. I hastily wiped away the tear that slowly tracked down my cheek, leaving my face feeling grimy – when was the last time I washed?

The grumble of my stomach gave me an incentive to remove myself from the confines of my small room and I stretched my limp limbs, making my way down the stairs to the kitchen. Peering through the archway, I noticed Bill still perched on his armchair, his physical form still present yet mentally he was light-years away.

The room was shrouded in darkness just like the rest of the house. But the lavender walls that once brightened the room did nothing to cheer up the gloom. Instead, it bequeathed a dull grey tone in the filtered sunlight from the gaps in the curtain, intensifying the mood.

With tentative steps I made my way over to Bill and stood in front of him. His eyes never wavered. "Bill," I called, my voice barely above a whisper. He made no move to show he heard me. He probably didn't; his mind stuck on that night. "Bill," I tried again. This time he blinked once, twice, before moving his eyes to me. His mouth parted ever so slightly but no noise came out. The ache in my chest intensified from his heartbroken expression. He looked so utterly broken that my eyes burned from oncoming tears. The tremble of my lower lip snapped Bill out of his stupor and he immediately gathered me in his arms.

"Ella," his hoarse voice cracked. "Oh…oh, my dear."

I slipped my small arms around his broad shoulders and buried my face in his neck, his beard scratching the bare skin of my arm. Sobs broke through my nine year old mouth and we cried together for the first time, both mourning the devastating end of our beloved. His callous hands patted down my matted chestnut brown hair as he openly wept.

Through our crying the sounds of laughing families sounded all but cheerful, the jovial tinkling was more taunting and spiteful, mocking the permanent departure of Nanny Anne. How could she be taken away so suddenly when I had scarcely gotten to be with her? So much I had yet to learn from her, about her. It was cruel the way fate shattered, beat and burned my heart only a year after it was eternally dented from my own parents. Death was a funny thing; killing her slowly from within then all at once.

But the warmth that spread through my body in Bill's arms made me feel whole again, if only for a moment. Bill wasn't the biggest hugger but when he did hug it was the best feeling in the world. His large arms protective around my small body, his homely scent of fresh rain, paper and a deep masculine scent I could not identify, and of course, his large protruding belly. Very cuddly.

Dinner was spent in silence. I strongly urged Bill to eat in the kitchen upon hearing the growling of his stomach and after much insistence (classed as whinging to adults) he reluctantly agreed. Jimmy wasn't back from wherever he left to, leaving us to keep to our sandwiches. Bill picked at his pickle and peanut butter sandwich while I wolfed down my seconds of tuna and cucumber, filling up on the meals I had missed.

Bill resorted back to his selective muteness no matter how hard I tried to get him to talk. I discussed everything from the weather to the upcoming school year – still over a few weeks away – but he didn't make a single comprehensible sound. His restraint from communicating made me feel terribly lonely and it took me all my willpower not to stomp my feet and scream in frustration. But like any other ten year old, I had my limits and my already small level of patience was wearing thin.

We needed each other and I was more than thankful to have him with me. But if we were to be strong together he would need to get his act together and act like the grown man he was. No more wallowing alone staring into nothing and disregarding his responsibilities.

"Bill," I said. Nothing. I slapped my hands on the table. "Bill!" His gaze flickered up to me before returning to his sandwich. "Bill, talk to me." Still nothing. The burning sensation in my eyes came back and I choked on a sob. "Why won't you say anything Bill? You need to get up and do something! You had her for years all for yourself but I only had her company for one year. If anything, I should be the one moping around," I hated how childish I sounded; the politeness and respect fiercely embedded into my mind vanished in an instant. I had every right to be upset and I was going to show it. "I need you, Bill."

The sympathetic and loving expression I expected was nowhere to be seen. Bill looked up with a glare and in the blink of an eye he gripped my upper arms. "How dare you." I flinched. "What makes you think you deserve her more than I? She's my- she was my wife! I've been with her for most of my life and you think you should be more upset? You're not even her real daughter!" His deep Scottish brogue enunciated every word, spitting them out as if to remove an awful taste in his mouth. I whimpered under his grip, his last statement cutting deeply into my heart.

"Bill-"

"NO ELLA!" I would have jumped back if it were not for his hands on my arms. He removed one hand to point in my face. "You want me to move on that quickly? Fine. But don't come crying to me when you're not happy. You asked for it Ella."

"I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't mean that, I'm so- so sorry, please, I need you," I cried, stumbling over my words. He shook his head.

"You don't understand, you just DON'T UNDERSTAND! You can't need me. I can't do it, not on my own." With that he got up from the table and limped out of the kitchen and to the living room.

I stood shell shocked, my hands shaking in fright. The telephone was ringing but the sound was so vague in my mind I didn't register it. It had been ringing on and off all day but we ignored it. We weren't in the mood to talk to anyone.

The sound of the Floo alerted me and I ran in the living room only to find the green embers dying and Bill gone. It was the first time he'd used it for transportation without alerting anyone in months.

My face scrunched up and hot tears streaked down my face. The pain in my chest grew with every sob. Why did he leave? Was he going to come back? I said I was sorry… "I didn't mean it Bill. I'm sorry, please come back. Please," I pleaded to the living room through my crying. I fell down to the floor where I crawled into a ball on my side, my dinner long forgotten.

I didn't acknowledge the pair of arms that wrapped around me. I was too numb. I let whoever it was hold me. In the back of my mind I noted the person had thin arms – definitely not Bill's. And their scent wasn't very strong but I could just make out the smell of skin that had been in the sun for hours and the familiar but mild shampoo. I wound my arms around their thin waist and nuzzled my face in their chest, hoping the soothing heartbeat would calm my erratic breathing.

"Ella, what's wrong? Where are Nanny Anne and Bill?" More sobs broke out once I'd heard this. Nanny Anne wasn't coming back. She couldn't make everything better again like she used to. No more motherly smiles, or fresh apple pie, or her cuddles. Never again. And Bill…I didn't want to think of what I did not know. Fear of rejection reared its ugly head and pushed my hope to the back of my mind. Why would he come back?

Words were being murmured softly into my ear, reassurances that everything was going to be ok. The fingers stroking through my hair and the soft lips pressing down on my forehead contributed to pacify my breathing until the hiccups faded away and we were left rocking on the floor.

"She's gone," I mumbled against the soft cotton. "Nanny Anne's gone." My voice was empty, void of any emotion. I was sure I cried out all my feelings.

"Where, Ella?" Mrs Brimble's gentle voice asked.

My throat tightened briefly. "Heaven."

Mrs Brimble took me to her house. She wouldn't let me stay in an empty house, and after my refusal to say what happened to Bill, she left it alone. Just before we left the phones shrill ringing rang through the air and she answered, her expression turning solemn. Writing a note to Bill, she grabbed my hand and led me out of the house and down the street.

Zoe instantly broke off the headlock she had her brother stuck in and bombarded me, wondering why I was at her house but then claiming she didn't really care and that we could spend the night making a fort and watch movies and eating lots of yummy cake, maybe even invite Nate over for an impromptu sleepover. A stern look from Mrs Brimble cut off her excited ramblings and she led me to the sofa where everyone watched me bemused.

I kept my head down until Mrs Brimble sent her four children off to bed, her eldest son Eric the only one not present. She spent some time trying to find out what happened but I couldn't talk. Coming to sit by me, she pulled me in a hug and told me about the phone call: it was notifying us of Nanny Anne's impending funeral to happen in two days' time. It was sooner than expected but they had no need to keep her rotting away above ground. The thought sent a shiver down my spine and Mrs Brimble squeezed me slightly tighter. With nothing left to be said, she sent me off upstairs to bed.

The next day Mr Brimble escorted me home to get a few belongings before we went back. During my brief visit at home, I hastily checked every room for Bill but was disappointed when I saw the house empty. Maybe he wasn't coming back after all. With a deep sigh we left.

"So it's agreed then?" Zoe said, startling me out of my daze. We were spending the day in the living room watching movies. I tried my hardest to engage with Zoe but I found my mind blank, devoid of any emotion or thought. I had sudden random urges to burst out in tears but I would always brush them away before anyone noticed. Mrs Brimble came in the room to check up on us every few minutes. "Ella? Are you listening?"

I nodded. "Yeah, Pinocchio's fine, Zo." She gave a tight lipped smile and placed the video tape into the machine. Taking the remote off the table, she came and settled herself beside me and her younger brother of only four years, Phillip, before playing the movie.

"Y'know Phil," Zoe started, once the movie was nearing its end. "That's how you were born; you're really a puppet."

Phillip's outraged gasp and stuttering caused me to choke on a piece of popcorn. It was so utterly adorable.

"It's true Philly," Zoe continued, "But I don't see _how._ I mean really, you're not brave, truthful or unselfish, are you? I think the Fairy made a mistake."

Phillip started sniffling. He didn't know exactly what Zoe was saying but with four older siblings he knew an insult when he heard one. He quietened down in an instant, a wondrous expression over his face. "Do I have Jimimy?"

I chuckled under my breath. Zoe saw me and grinned wider. "Yes Phil, you do have Jimimy Cricket. He's in the garden."

He gasped, his eyes blue eyes bugging out of his head and a large smile taking over his face, showing the gaping hole where his front teeth should have been. "Mama! I need to find Jimimy! Where's he hiding? Don't let cat eat him!" he ran out the room shouting.

Zoe and I giggled. She turned to me. "Y'know Ella," she said slowly, and I prepared myself for her curious questioning. I returned her gaze. "If you lie would your nose get any bigger? 'Cos it's quite big already."

I blinked at her before spluttering out into laughter, her question being so unexpected. I laughed so hard I toppled over onto my side. It felt nice. "Let's see, umm…you're the most amazing person in the world, Zoe." I crossed my eyes to look at my nose when Zoe scoffed.

"I said _lie,_ Ella. Everyone's knows how fabulous I am," she said and made a pose, bending her elbows and resting one hand on her hip and the other behind her head. From the corner of my eye I saw Mrs Brimble stick her head around the corner to watch us, a hint of a smile on her pink lips.

"Ok, ok, I'll try again," I shut my eyes in concentration. Opening them once I'd thought of something, I spat out laughter once again, spraying Zoe's face in spit. She had her fingers stretching her mouth wide open with her tongue poking out and her bright blue eyes crossed over her scrunched up nose. She looked utterly ridiculous. Zoe immediately jumped back and fell off the sofa.

"EW! That's disgusting Ella," she whined. The effect was ruined from the few giggles that broke out.

"Oh my- I'm so sorry Zo," I said, leaning over the edge to see her wiping her face vigorously with her hands. She sat up and fixed a glare on me. We stared at each other before succumbing into laughter again.

The pressure on my chest lightened as we laughed and momentarily, I forgot why I was upset. It was nice to joke and be a normal kid again.

"Where's Jimmy?" she asked once we calmed down and were sitting on the sofa again.

I shrugged. "Don't know. He's probably at someone's house getting them to feed him," I said, guilt creeping into me for not looking for Jimmy, but he was a smart dog and could look after himself. More than I could say for myself.

Zoe nodded. She sighed and leaned back into the sofa. "I wish we had a dog. It's so annoying living with boys all the time."

"At least you have loads of people your age to play with –"

"– We wrestle –" she corrected.

"– When I have to wait until school or if we invite each other around. Or if I see George then I play with him." I added the last statement as it came into my head. Zoe sat up.

"You still see George?" she asked. I nodded. "Why do I never see him?"

"I thought you were annoyed by boys?" I teased.

"Pfft no. I said it's annoying living with them. Like Nate; he's a boy and he's one of my best friends. But I don't live with him so he's fun to play with," she explained.

"Well next time I see George I'll see if I can get him to meet you."

She eyed me. "You're the only one who's seen this 'George'," Zoe stated.

"Yeah, so?" I asked defensively. Did she think I was lying? It wasn't my fault he didn't talk to any of the other kids from the village. I had always wondered why he kept to himself whenever he came by.

Zoe watched me closer then shrugged. "No reason. Come on, what else should we watch?"

The next day came way too fast for my liking and the sense of dread I woke up to didn't ease my nervousness. Mrs Brimble let me sleep in longer than usual but the morning sped by so fast I found myself at the graveyard in no time, clad in an old plain black dress of Zoe's.

The graveyard was buzzing with activity; most of the villagers were present to mourn Nanny Anne's passing. I gulped as I made my way towards the front with Mrs Brimble holding my hand tightly.

I shifted my gaze and felt my heart dropping when I didn't see Bill. I needed to say sorry. I didn't mean half the things I said but I needed him to understand my pain. I needed _him_. He should've been here. For Nanny Anne. A nudge on my leg caught my attention and I looked down to see Jimmy. He gave a swift poke with his leg and took off before I could give him as much as a pat. Lucky him, leaving before it got too much.

The ceremony droned on and I couldn't linger on the words of the priest. Why would I? I didn't care what he had to say. These were empty words with no feelings. The same words repeated over and over again with no correlation to the deceased. I knew Nanny Anne was in heaven. I didn't need someone to tell me how much she was going to be missed, or how many people were left deeply impacted by her death. The only people who were truly going to feel the pain of the loss of her were me and Bill.

Towards the end of the speech I zoned out and watched the other guests. Many had solemn expressions and were respectfully keeping their heads down. The sun shone against the sea of black, illuminating the foliage surrounding the graveyard.

My gaze swept over the trees and flickered back to the figure at the back. I squinted against the sun to get a clearer look. I was too distracted to notice the priest ending his speech and Nanny Anne being lowered into the ground.

People began to leave and I rushed away from Mrs Brimble discreetly. My little legs stumbled over the many feet I ran over as I squeezed myself through the swarm of bodies. Escaping through a gap I saw his back retreating through the village and I resumed running to catch up.

"Bill!" I yelled. He didn't stop. I pushed my legs even faster. "Bill, wait!"

Bill hurried home and I rushed in after him, only to see the living room empty again. My heart was beating wildly and I searched the whole house calling his name. He wasn't there.

A door slamming caused me to perk up. "Bill?"

Jimmy trotted into the room and sat down by my feet. I squatted down and stroked his fur. "Hey Jimbo, where you been boy?"

"Little guy wouldn't leave me alone until I followed him, the bugger."

I would recognise the unnaturally high pitch voice anywhere. My head snapped up.

"I came down yesterday but you weren't here. No one was actually. Care to tell me where everyone was? Wait- why are you wearing a dress, Cinderella?"

I giggled lightly. He knew my dislike of dresses and itchy tights. "I've just come from a funeral."

George sat down on the worn pistachio-green sofa and patted the spot next to him. "Who died?"

I looked down at my hands in my lap. "Nanny Anne," I murmured.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Do you, er…want to talk about it?"

Jimmy shifted and tilted his head. I shook my head.

"So, where's Billy bear?" he asked.

A smile involuntary made its way onto my face at his use of Bill's nickname. He couldn't be a normal person and call people by their legal birth names. "I don't know. He left."

George had a small frown on his face. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I said some things and he got angry and just…left. I feel horrible." I put my face in my hands to hide my quivering lip. Jimmy rested his paws on my feet.

"Where're you staying?" George asked, rubbing my shoulder with his hand. It was small and thin, but still bigger than mine, giving a small amount of comfort.

"A friend's," I responded. "Zoe. She actually wanted to meet you."

George chuckled and pulled on his ear. "Ah, I'd love to Elle, but mum doesn't know I came down here. Jimmy dragged me away before I could come up with an excuse."

I shook my head. Typical George.

"Come on," he said, jumping off the sofa and pulling me up. "Walk me to the hill and help me come up with an excuse so mum doesn't skin me alive. I've grown rather fond of my tan. First time I haven't burnt y'know."

I smiled. My sunshine. "For an eleven year old you're really vain."

"Dashing good looks, princess. It's all natural."

"Don't call me that."

We walked through Ottery St Pole towards Stoatshead Hill with Jimmy running up ahead. Villagers roaming through the streets would stop and send me pitying looks but with George cracking ridiculous joke after ridiculous joke it was easy to ignore them.

"So you're ready?" I asked once we'd made it to the bottom of the hill.

George nodded. "Yep: Percy started screaming that there was no sugar at home for his tea so, like the best brother ever, I kindly went to the village to get some to sweeten up his sour bum," he said, repeating the story we had come up with and holding up the bag of sugar I gave him from the kitchen before we left.

"Good."

He looked at me with an unreadable expression, the slight tan the sun had given him camouflaging the smattering of freckles on his normally pale face. "You'll be ok?" he asked, unusually serious.

"Of course."

"Good. Bye princess."

"Don't call me that ginger."


	7. If this was a movie

**HOORAY update time! This chapter just does not want to load. Anyway, it would have been out sooner but had a nightmare saturday: big family get together, three year old cousin gets hurt and rushed to hospital, I'm left to babysit his 5 siblings and then feed more or less _everyone._ And I have a big family. But good news: he's ok!**

**I quite like this chapter. God knows why though, not much happens in it but a HUGE TIME SKIP! Next chapter definitely has more action and introduces some well known HP characters we all love.**

**Thank you to _chocolatecheesecakes _for your lovely as always review. It makes me so happy knowing you like the story.**

**More surprises to ensure further into the story so I do apologise for anyone nodding off in the meantime. I'll make it up to you - promise!**

* * *

If life was a movie then the next five years of my life would be thrown over the camera, completely ignored in favour of the grand scheme fate had planned. And possibly to shorten the amount of time for what would be deemed as dull to outsiders but completely mind boggling to the one underdoing the transformation, in this case me.

The audience wouldn't see me transform from a young girl into a teenager with a mind too old for her body. They wouldn't see the transition from primary school to secondary, where Prunella Trunchball, the pudgy blonde, hounded me more than ever away from the protection of my older best friends, Zoe Brimble and Jonathan 'Nate' Pike. They wouldn't see me stress under the humongous load of homework, the conflicting teenage emotions, teasing and gossiping that seemed life threatening from the raging hormones ("Oh! Look at her eyebrows! Too close together and far too bushy. And that _nose_! Ugh, running into a brick wall couldn't even save that."), the juggle between working a part time job and keeping up with everything else and all the other menial changes life thrust upon me.

And they wouldn't see Bill coming back.

It had been only been a few days since Nanny Anne's funeral and I was still residing at the Brimble's. I was sat in the living room with Eric, Zoe's eldest brother, who was teaching me how to play blackjack when Mrs Brimble answered the door, instantly ceasing the incessant knocking. To say she was shocked would've been an understatement when she saw Bill; no one had seen him since before the funeral. He took me home in silence and made me dinner for the first time.

"Why did you come back?" I asked as he cleared the table. I refused to take my eyes off him. "Why did you come and get me?"

His footsteps faltered slightly before resuming again, keeping his back towards me. "Anne would've flipped a lid if she saw me actin' the way I was. You deserve better kid, and I promise to look after yer."

Now, if life was a movie none of that would've been shown. It would skip straight to a regular day where I wake up to make Bill breakfast only to find he's already left for work via a brief note, and then carry on my day until I see him at dinner. Fast forward the almost completely silent meal filled with awkward 'how are you's and any other snippets of conversations where we mention something of some importance that the camera conveniently skipped over, to me sitting up in bed crying at the worn photo album and running my fingers lightly over everyone's faces, slipping out a sentence or two every few minutes to catch the audience up on what they've missed.

But life most certainly isn't a movie. My life dragged on by the minute, inching through every monotonous day and every highly emotional drama, thinking _this is it._ This is my life. How exciting. Where the most thrilling moment was my first kiss, albeit Nate had swapped places with Zoe's new cat at the time and I then refused to go anywhere Nate – the first dare I ever declined (which I later made up for after stuffing myself with Mrs Brimble's cheese and onion quiche. How d'you like that Nate!) How many teenage girls could proudly say their first kiss was with a smelly cat? And then their first intentional kiss with a boy was filled with the taste of the most awfully scented foods ever?

I never cried over photos. I never found much reason to look at them unless we had a guest who outwardly asked for them. Most of my spare time was hardly ever even spent in my room. I completed homework on my favourite pistachio-green sofa and even slept there most nights. Some habits were too hard to break. Dinner wasn't as awkward as some directors and producers would've made it out to be. I spoke of my day in great detail while Bill would add in comments of his own and ask questions about whatever. But he never delved into his own work. Not the work at the paper shop; he had no qualms about relaying his issues with annoying customers with their odd small talk.

It was his wizard work he never spoke of.

Bill had taken to Flooing out to do God knows what every week. His visits were never regular; one day he would leave late in the night and wouldn't be back for days at a time. This was when Zoe and I would look after his paper shop. I never asked him what he was up to. Oh no, I learnt my lesson. He went on a massive rant on how I should trust him and that if anything were to happen to him I would be informed after I asked him about it just before my twelfth birthday. I took his word for it. I wasn't about to let us fall out again.

If this was a movie there would also be some complicated romance involved, presumably those conflicted love triangles with the two most involved boys in my life: Nate and George. Although Nate was my 'first' kiss there were no romantic feelings. He was my shy older brother at most. My shy older brother who harboured unrequited feelings for our other best friend. But every teenage drama movie needs a bit of romantic drama. Not in real life.

And George…

The summer of Nanny Anne's death was the most I'd ever seen of George. One night when Bill was back he snuck me out to the swings in the park and then we sat atop the slide, just sitting. No talking, no joking, no thinking. He broke the silence by saying how telling me of his boarding school (or as he called it, 'going away for the boring month's school') since September last year. His visits during that summer were always a surprise and he always managed to find me every few days. And then he went back to 'going away for the boring month's school' where I saw him once during the holidays.

But I was much too young then to be worrying about a love life. Even when I was at the acceptable age to be involved with a boy he always managed to take my mind off it. Regaling tales of some more intricate pranks he carried out in school, detailing his detentions and friends, we never bothered with advancing into the unknown. Well, unknown for me. George never had any issue with telling me about his flings in school after his third (or was it second?) year at his school.

Life was definitely not a movie. And whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, who knew?

"Is little Ella in dream land again?" His voice snapped me out of my daze.

School had just broken off for the summer and we were in my garden soaking up some of the rare hot rays of the blinding sun. Well, George was. I was comfortably in the shade attempting to read a book on China's Cultural Revolution in the 70's I had picked up from the local bookstore while Bill was out in wizard land.

"Shut up, I'm busy," I said, my voice muffled against the pencil in my mouth, used for scribbling down any notes in the sides.

George got up from where he was laying on the grass and stretched out his arms. I would be a liar if I said I hadn't noticed how much he changed since he was away at school. Not mentally, definitely not. He was still as much as a child in that still bright red head of his. Physically he had grown taller, was still growing and was a fair bit taller than me now (I stopped growing as soon as I hit fourteen). And he certainly filled out. His obvious muscles flexed with the slightest movement, his jaw slightly more defined with no ounce of baby fat (ok, maybe there was _some_), his veins more prominent on his hands and arms, his shoulders broader than ever, and those _abs._ God, he wasn't the lanky skinny boy I remember playing with in the park anymore, but he wasn't exactly a firefighter, or those steroid-ed bodybuilders. As well as that he grew out his hair. Where it was short and scruffy when I first met him, it was now long and hung around his face to below his chin.

He shook his hair out and walked over to me. With a quick swipe of his hand he pulled the book out of my hand. My head shot up.

"Hey!" I yelped, squinting my eyes up to glare at him silhouetted against the afternoon sun. He threw the book over his shoulder and pulled me up. I gasped, outraged. "Do not _ever_ throw my books, George."

George scoffed and pushed me by my shoulders towards the grass in the sun where he previously lay. "School finished a week ago. You've spent months away from seeing this gorgeous face and godly body and you're not going to spend another second with a book while I'm here." He pressed down on my shoulders until I sat down. He leaned his face down next to mine "Now, I'm going to go in and get us a drink and when I get back, you better be out of those clothes and without book." I stared up at him with wide eyes. His face flushed slightly as he stumbled to recover his words. "I- I mean not naked, hell no! I meant in a bikini or something, but not if you- if you don't want to, I mean…just- whatever you want, you look like you need a tan. NO! Not that you look like a ghost, trust me, you really don't but-"

"George," I interrupted him, smirking at his discomfort. It was a rare moment to see the red head embarrassed and blushing. If only I had my camera with me. "I get it. Go."

He nodded his head vigorously and started to walk backwards towards the kitchen door. "Ok. Good. I mean, you have nothing to be ashamed of…not that I'd know, I mean, I have a girlfriend and she'd-"

"_George_," I broke him off again and chuckled. "Seriously. Shut up and go."

George winked that still obnoxiously terrible wink, clicked his fingers and swivelled around, sauntering into the kitchen. I breathed out a laugh. Some things never change.

I cast my eyes around the garden, mentally noting the work Bill and I would have to do once he got back. The usual bipolar weather delayed us in mowing the grass and weeding, leaving the garden to look a mess. The birds flittered around the bird house Bill and Nanny Anne had fixed eons ago. A squirrel scurried on the back fence. A hedgehog was sitting by the slab of grey stone wedged crookedly into the ground with an array of multicolour flowers surrounding it.

I gazed sadly at the headstone, the usual feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach whenever I saw it present. It had only been a few months since Jimmy died. He was old. Really old. Bill said he had exceeded the typical age a dog should live and wasn't the least bit surprised when one day we woke up and he didn't. I remember walking through the village without him, the pitying glances that were thrown my way back in full force since Nanny Anne. It didn't seem right, going around without him by my side, waking up without his salivating tongue drooping everywhere, coming home from school to an empty house with no overexcited greeting.

"Wow, you're really out of it today, aren't you little one?" I jumped up and held my hand to my erratically beating heart.

"For God's sake, George, stop doing that," I said, slapping his arm. He chuckled and handed me a cool glass of lemonade. "Thanks."

"Well maybe if you didn't keep on going to la-la land I wouldn't have to," he replied, running his fingers against my ribs enough for me to squirm away from him. His signature smirk was in place. "Ohoho, did I forget little Ella's ticklish?"

I slapped his hand away. "NO, stop! And stop-" slap on the arm, "calling-" another, "me-" and again, "little!" And one more.

He bought his arms up to take the brunt of my attack. "Ok, ok, ok, enough woman! I get it, stop! And it's not my fault you have a baby face."

It was, unfortunately, true. My round face with a slightly pointed chin always made me look younger than my actual age, giving me the look of childlike innocence. "Oh, sod off you plonker," I grumbled, leaning away from him and resumed looking at the headstone, sipping lightly on the lemonade.

"You miss him," George stated. I nodded. He was the first companion I had with me through everything. He was the Baloo to my Mowgli, the Argos to my Odysseus. Life without him was incredibly plain and empty, and as much as Zoe tried to get her cat, Kiwi, to keep me company, she just couldn't replace him.

"So do I. Now I have no one to tell me when you're in a mood and need cheering up from a devilishly handsome red head."

"Ginger," I corrected with a smirk.

"Cheeky," George said nudging me with his arm. I bit my lip to suppress the grin taking over my face. Simple touches had me smiling like a fool lately when it came to George.

Silence came over us once again as we sat in the sun, keeping to our thoughts. But, George being George naturally felt the need to talk.

"I don't really have a girlfriend. There's a girl, but we're not together."

I brought my knees up to my chest and crossed my arm over them, holding my lemonade glass out with one hand. The sun shining on his head made his hair dance like fire in the light breeze, enticing me to run my fingers through it. His eyes had his usual playful glint to them which was only intensified by the light.

"What's she like?"

George smiled and looked up to the sky. "Perfect," he muttered. "She's just…amazing. I don't know how to describe her. She's really clever and funny and nice, but she can stand up for herself. God knows how many times she's yelled at me. Really dedicated and ambitious. Absolutely stunning." George smiled bashfully and played with a blade of grass.

I couldn't help the frown that tugged the corner of my lips. If life was a movie there would definitely be some romance in the main character's life. But life isn't a movie. And no matter how hard I tried to battle my growing crush on George, the feelings wouldn't go, even though we hardly saw each other all year. Perhaps I wasn't a large enough character to be considered a leading lady, even in my own life, thus underserving of my perfect man. I had a small and insignificant life. I was a squib living amongst muggles, but also with a secretive wizard who told me nothing of his double life. I was a wallflower in my own movie. How depressing is that? And to have unrequited feelings…man do I feel bad for Nate.

It was Christmas when I discovered my crush on George. Bill, Jimmy and I spent the day together eating and dancing, and went over to the Brimble's for dinner where it seemed most of the village congregated for the feast. I hadn't seen George during the last summer holidays because of his family trip to Egypt and then at Christmas he stayed at school. But I was pleasantly surprised when, as I was getting ready for bed, I found a parcel on my bed wrapped in shiny purple and green paper with a gold ribbon messily tied around it several times.

The letter had been short and sweet and I was even more surprised when it was signed from George and Fred, George's best friend and closest brother. The feeling of absolute elation, honour even, was rooted into my mind as I thought about how George talked to his brother about me. Yes, it was a privilege to get Fred's approval as George's other friend. Although I had never met him, I found myself really liking Fred.

The parcel was a box filled with little gifts. There was a thick ruby red scarf embellished with gold trimmings, a box of delightfully foreign sweets and a simple silver bracelet with amethyst gems dotted around it. The boys had noted that the bracelet was from Egypt and that amethyst represented royalty and was perfect for my title of Princess Cinderella. Not even Zoe or Nate had gotten me a collection of meaningful gifts, which made the gesture even sweeter.

"She sounds lovely," I said, sipping the last dregs of my lemonade.

"She is," George breathed out a deep laugh. "God I sound like a sap."

"Because you are one, Georgie! And just because she's not your girlfriend doesn't mean I'm stripping down into a bikini," I teased, wagging my finger in his face. His humour had definitely rubbed off on me over the years.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sun outlining every one of his freckles against his light tan. It took me all I had not to ogle at his exposed chest. "Oh, come one Elle! Nothing wrong with a bit of sun."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, taking our empty glasses and making my way to the kitchen. Sighing from the cool that the shade bought away from the sun, I placed the glasses in the sink. From the corner of my eye I saw George following me inside, grabbing his t-shirt from the chair and pulling it on. I could feel my face flushing slightly from the way his flexing muscles had me entranced. I quickly diverted my eyes to the dirty dishes before he caught me looking.

"So where's Bill?" George asked, leaning on his arms on the counter next to me.

"Dun' know. Probably working." In truth, Bill Flooed out the previous night and wasn't yet back. He was only gone for a night so I wasn't too worried. It still irked me not knowing what he was doing though.

"How's he doing?" he asked, his voice soft. George knew how badly Bill had taken Nanny Anne's death. We were certain he still wasn't entirely over it as he wasn't the same Bill I knew when he had taken me in.

I shrugged. "Same as always."

Turning the tap off, I turned to George. He was still leaning against the counter and watching me, his hair falling in his face. Without thinking I bought my hand up and pushed the few silky strands out of the way, only for them to fall back. I brushed them away again pushed it behind his ear, lightly trailing my fingertips on his skin as I did.

"You hungry?" I asked, moving away from him and to the fruit bowl on the round table. Taking out two apples, I held one out to him.

George eyed the apple and flicked his eyes between me and the apple a few times. He pushed my hand away and took out another from the bowl, holding it extremely close to my face.

"Green, love. Did you honestly forget? Really woman, I'd've thought you'd know better by now," he said, taking a massive bite out of his green apple. I rolled my eyes and put the spare red apple back in the bowl.

"I'm sorry your highness. But one day you'll come to your senses and realise how stupid you're being."

He glared at me. He would've looked scary were it not for the apple juice on his chin. "That a threat, princess?"

"Hmmm," I drawled out, tapping my finger on my chin in an expression of thoughtfulness. "It could be…"

Throwing his half eaten apple over his shoulder, George suddenly leaped and held firmly onto my waist. I yelped in surprise.

"George! What the hell," I laughed and managed to squirm out of his hold.

"Oh no you don't!" With a yell he chased me around the table. We were both barefooted and on opposite ends of the table. I made to move to the right but George followed with exceptional speed. I stopped and sidestepped to the left, only for George to mimic my steps. George smirked. "What's wrong, princess? Stuck?"

I scoffed while trying to find an escape route. The garden door was behind me but I there was no way I would get away from him once out there. The hallway was behind George but getting around him looked impossible.

I looked down at my hand and back up to George. His eyes followed mine and they widened in realisation. Before he could utter a word I lobbed my apple at him and sprinted around, hoping the bruise forming on his head would distract him long enough. I blew a raspberry as I ran past him and squealed as I dodged his outstretched fingers.

"I'm gonna get you Ella!" I heard George yell.

My maniacal laughter grew as I reached the front door and tugged on the handle. Hands encircled my waist before I could yank open the door and George hoisted me up from behind and walked through the archway and to the living room.

"Ah-ha!" he barked and threw me down onto the sofa. He jumped on top of me, his legs on either side of mine to stop my kicking and with long nimble fingers, tickled my ribs and stomach. "Now you'll think twice before messing with a Weasley."

My eyes were squeezed tight and tears trickled down my cheeks. It had been such a long time since I had laughed so much. If I were able to think coherently I was sure I'd be blushing through my light olive skin at our current position. I couldn't even think of words let alone get any through my laughter.

Some things never change. And George was still my sunshine, even if for twice a year.

ᴥ

My cooking skills had improved greatly since the passing of Nanny Anne. Mrs Brimble had taught me a lot during my stay with her and although I burnt a lot when I first started cooking meals on my own, I gradually became better and managed to make edible food. I stirred the pot of sauce with meatballs and drained the pasta. Piling up two plates with steaming spaghetti, I placed them on the table with condiments and drinks and wiped my hands on my jeans.

I made my way through the archway and into the living room. Bill was sat in his armchair with a bottle on the table in front of him. The small glass was half filled with the deep amber liquid. He always came back from the wizard world with a few bottles of them. I flinched involuntarily and my hand rubbed to my thigh without thinking.

"Bill," I called out before going back to the kitchen. "Dinners up."

His thick boots were heard thumping on the hardwood floor in next to no time and he limped over to his seat. His hair was thinning and his beard was streaked with grey. Wrinkles marred his exposed skin and his tiny slits of eyes were surrounded by dark skin. One thing that was unchanged was his weight. He had first lost a lot of weight from lack of eating but he put it all back on quickly.

"Thanks, love," he said, sighing and picking up his fork. I sat down opposite him and poured lemon juice on the pasta. "How was your day?"

"Was good," I answered around a mouthful. "Cleaned up a bit, went down to see Imogen and Carley, read some and George came around for a bit." Carley was Imogen the baker's two year old daughter. I visited as much as I could because of Imogen and her husband both working, little Carley was often left hassling one of them at work.

"Haven't seen George in a while. How's he doing?"

I bit my lip to prevent the stupid smile taking over my face. I was normally good at composing my emotions but George did funny things to me. My gaze flickered to the bracelet on my wrist. "He's good."

Bill eyed me and nodded. His lip was twitched up ever so slightly in a smirk. We spoke normally but there was still an underlying awkwardness present. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get over Bill's words before he left. They always played on my mind when we were together. He hadn't exactly apologised either, just brushed over it and carried on with life as if nothing happened.

We ate in silence for a while, the only sounds being of our forks scraping against the plates.

"I need to Floo out again tonight," Bill broke the silence. I looked up.

"Again? You were out this morning though," I said before I could stop myself. Bill had never Flooed out for wizard work twice in one day before.

"Yeah, something I really gotta do."

"Oh, ok. D'you know when you'll be back?"

He shook his head and slurped up a stray strand of spaghetti hanging off his lip, spraying sauce over his beard. "No. Should ideally be back in a few days." He looked up at me through his tiny eyes. "You'll be ok on your own? You can handle the shop with Zoe?"

"Zoe's on holiday. I could get Nate to help?"

"Sure. Whatever helps."

So many questions ran through my mind. I was desperate to know what Bill was off doing in the wizard world. It wasn't like I would be oblivious to whatever he said; I grew up in the wizarding world after all. But Bill always brushed me off or changed the topic to something muggle whenever I mentioned something relating to the magical world. He had been Flooing out every week for six years; what was he doing? What wasn't he telling me? It hurt, feeling as if I couldn't be trusted. Or maybe he was just preventing me from involving myself with every aspect of his life. After all, I'm not his daughter.

He dropped his fork into his empty plate and pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor as he stood. "Thanks for dinner, love. I'll be off now."

I nodded and stood. I grabbed his plate and was walking towards the sink when Bill held my arm. I looked back at him. His expression was unreadable. Without hesitation, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips to my forehead in a light kiss, lingering for long seconds.

I stood frozen as he left through the archway. It had been a long time since Bill had shown any caring signs of affection besides the odd one-armed hug. The gesture made my eyes burn slightly as tears threatened to fall, more from confusion than anything else. I blinked them away and cast my eyes around the kitchen. The Floo sounded and I was left alone again.

If this was a movie I needed a serious word with the director.


	8. Ottery's Bully

**I know I said there would be more mention of other familiar HP characters in this chapter and I'm really sorry but this chapter started writing itself and after thinking about it, realised said characters won't be introduced until the next chapter. I hope it's worth it!**

**On other news, my aunt's cat had kitties! The cat, unfortunately, died and they're only two weeks old so I'll be getting one in a few weeks when they're ready to move away from their siblings. I want to know if any of you guys have pets and what their names are, and maybe even help me come up with one. It's a black and grey tabby if that helps any.**

**Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites; always makes my day just to know people do actually read this and are enjoying it (hopefully!)**

**Some adult language in this chapter.**

* * *

As it turns out, Nate was able to help out at the shop and arrived early the next morning. The weekday was slow, with many people from Ottery on holiday in some exotic land or some other dreary sect of Britain, leaving the town somewhat bare besides the undesirables.

We spent the morning catching up and restocking the shelves, taking particular interest in Bill's new order of decorative decks of playing cards. The decks ranged from intricate, overlapping designs of diamonds and Egyptian depictions, to salacious women (for the _mature_ customers) and kaleidoscopes of colours.

"What did I do to deserve her?"

I glanced up to see Nate looking out the shop window and caught sight of Mrs Pike before returning to observe a deck of cards portraying raging dragons which shimmered in direct light. "Oi, don't be so horrible, she's your mum," I said, pocketing the deck discreetly, thinking it to be an appropriate belated birthday present for George.

It always pained me to hear of Nate moan and groan endlessly about his mum. Not that I could blame him; she was terribly…loose, for lack of better word. I would much rather my position of being cast away, away from the only thing I was ever sure of and had ever known into a world where everything was new and I had to begin again, than to live with the constant talk of the town. Honestly, there was a new rumour flying around every week.

"You wouldn't be saying that if she was your mum," he grumbled, staring disgustedly at his mother flirting with her latest conquest: their neighbour Samuel something-or-other. "Honestly, she's been off with him god knows how many times now, why is he still bothering?"

"I know I wouldn't. Doesn't mean I can't tell you off for it," I replied.

"Hypocrite," he spat.

"Arse."

"Cow."

"Nutter."

"Pig."

"Wanker."

"Bitch."

"Jonathan!" Mrs Pike hurried into the shop towards her son, instantly ceasing the recurring swapping of insults. "How are you? Oh, I need to rush, Sammy's just offered to help me take the groceries home. A real gentleman!" She gushed without pausing for breath.

"Mum, he lives next door, I'm sure it's no problem," Nate said. But it was no use, everyone knew no one could talk someone down to Mrs Pike unless she started it.

"Oh nonsense, love," she waved him off and sighed. "He's so wonderful. You could learn a lot from him, Jonathan. Say, what time do you think you'll be home?"

"Late mum, I'm helping Ella and then I'll probably go and see Matt," Nate answered with a frown.

"Ah, good! Well, I'll be off now. Don't rush home, love," she rushed out the shop before hastily calling out, "Have a smashing day, Ella!"

We both stood in silence, our gazes fixed on the door Mrs Pike had just left from.

"Well, then…two guesses what she's going to be doing," I hinted with raised eyebrows. Nate sighed again.

"God, she makes me sick. And to think, I'm supposed to be the teenager sleeping around," he rubbed his face and shelved the deck of salacious women he was marvelling, no longer interested in the curves of the impossibly voluptuous sirens.

I couldn't help but laugh. "You? Sleep around? Please, everyone knows you're the Prince Charming waiting for your one true love."

He smirked. "I'd rather not be Prince Charming if he ends up with Cinderella."

"Oi! There's nothing wrong with me, thank you very much." I stretched across the counter and punched his arm.

"Ow! I never said there was, you nutter," he said, rubbing his arm. "Just that you're not my type. And besides, we all know who you want to be your Prince Charming," Nate teased.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I huffed, turning my head away to neaten out rolls of old parchment and stacks of printing paper.

"Of course you don't. _Oh, I saw George again yesterday! His hair's gotten longer. Oh, how I wish I could run my fingers through it all day…and night,_" Nate winked and jumped back to avoid my punch. "_He's definitely been working out. Ah, Nate, if only you saw him. I'm planning on an impromptu water fight next time I have him half naked in my garden. Can you imagine?_" Nate ducked behind a shelf as I chased him around the counter. I grabbed the nearest object to me – a melting chocolate bar – and lobbed it at him. "_Maybe even invite him over for a sleepover. Say, what were those aphrodisiacs your mum was talking about the other day? I'm thinking of making him a candlelight dinner…_"

"NATE!" I shrieked and lunged at him. He laughed as he skimmed past me again. I mentally cursed his athletic body from cross country.

"Slow poke!" he taunted.

"You arse! I've never said any of those things," I yelled, stretching out my fingers only for him to turn a corner.

"Oh yeah?" he ducked away from a stapler shooting past his head. "Just as I walked in you started telling me about how he straddled you on your sofa yesterday. _Nate! His thighs are so strong and muscly, but lean at the same time. Just imagine what those legs can do,_" he said, his voice turning unnaturally falsetto and his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Shut up!" I shouted, but I couldn't stop the laughter breaking out. As soon as Nate walked into the shop I recounted seeing George yesterday after months. I told him everything, from him getting me into the sun and his embarrassing moment of insinuating I strip, to him chasing me around the house, me making us a hearty lunch of baked salmon and then of George detailing an erotic novel off the top of his head after I refused to show him my book, full with thrusts, grunts and moans (I can't lie, that was far more entertaining than the book on Hobbits on an adventure).

I was knocked out of my reminiscing when Nate suddenly tripped on a stray item and stumbled. I took the chance and jumped on his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him in a near death grip.

"Ah-ha! Gotcha!"

It had taken Mr Babbington to come in and purchase a receipt book to break us up, however reluctantly. But of course, it didn't last long. Shortly after he left, a girl from Nate's class had entered, instantly shutting him up from another made-up fantasy I had supposedly told him. He avoided eye contact with her and blushed when I asked him to introduce us. This, of course, led to him unleashing his stammering, shy self in which he barely got her name out before her watch beeped and she rushed out.

"God, you're a mess," I stated rolling my eyes.

"Shove off," he huffed.

"Whatever happened to Zoe?"

Nate shrugged. "Just friends," he replied shortly. I nodded slowly. Poor Nate.

"Care for a cuppa?" I called out as I retreated to the back where a corner was used as a make-shift kitchen.

"Sure," he yelled back.

The door jingled again, alerting us to a new customer. I popped the kettle on and left Nate to deal with the customer, knowing he could handle it as he had done so many times before.

I watched the kettle as steam slowly flowed out, curling in wisps in the air. If only I wasn't a squib and could speed up the process, like Bill. My thoughts seemed to drift to my magical, but not-so-magical blood a lot lately. Would I have been the perfect little Slytherin for daddy? Cunning and ambitious? Or was I bound to a more intelligent lifestyle, like my Ravenclaw mother, wise beyond her years and could puzzle her way out of the most startling riddle?

Shortly after my eleventh birthday I asked Bill to tell me everything – life at the historically famous wizarding school of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, where I spent summers of my childhood basking under the sun with ice cream, the feeling of holding and bonding with your wand for the first time, feeling the magic course through your veins with a simple touch, Quidditch, both professionally and at school. I had stayed up all night, anticipating the arrival of my Hogwarts letter, a much heated topic for magical eleven year olds all over Britain. I hoped against hope that I could prove my parents wrong, that I was as magical as Abigail, my little sister who had abilities galaxies above me. That I could laugh and dance in their faces that they were wrong, and that I didn't need them.

But like all little girls, I wanted them to be proud.

I gradually grew out of that frame of mind. Why would I need them when I had Nanny Anne and Bill simply happy to have me around, regardless of my magical capabilities? I didn't need a proper family. Not like Zoe or George, with their brothers and loving parents, doting on them over the littlest of things. Not even like Nate with his mother who, although didn't care very much for the increasing volume of rumours carrying her name or reputation, would do anything for her son. No, I was the one who had to grow up before I was ready, with people other than my biological parents. And I was fine with that now.

The kettle clicked off and I hurried to pour in two mugs. Extricating the tea bags and splashing in some milk, I grabbed both mugs and entered the front of the shop.

Now then, Prunella Trunchball was the dreaded bully my age who had no quarrels with picking fights with anyone. Her weight was with her, and no one dared mess with a girl that butch.

Nate's classmates on the other hand…

The group of infamous boys didn't stray their attention to younger children, or even dared confront those older like the fearless Trunchball. They gladly transfixed themselves on those their own age and hassled them until their leaving year.

Stephen Casey, the ringleader of said infamous group, was a force to be reckoned with. Aside from his steely grey eyes, he was well known for his stormy temper and brutal fights, sending off a fair amount of people to hospital in his time. Stephen was the exception to the boys not drifting from the comfort zone of their culprits. He had no issue with confronting those older or younger, boys or girls. His lackeys (or sheep, as Zoe referred to them as) only encouraged his endeavours. But they were hardly friends – Stephen was often caught tempting them against each other; survival of the fittest.

Zoe and Nate never spent much time dwelling on the activities of Casey and his boys, and I had never experienced anything from them first hand. So it was shocking, to say the least, when I came into the storefront to see Stephen leaning on the counter with three of his sheep.

I walked up to Nate and took in his hateful glare and furious red skin. It took a lot to get Nate riled up but when he did, he closed up, keeping everything inside until it dissipated. I put the mugs down on the shelf behind the counter and placed a hand on his clenched fist. He calmed slightly under my touch – something which was not omitted by Stephen.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, eyeing our hands and then directing his gaze to me. "Natey's little girlfriend come to save the day. Wha's matter, Nate, getting bored without Zo?"

My blood pounded as I realised what he was insinuating. Nate tensed again under my touch but stayed silent.

"Can't say I blame you though, someone like Zo can really take it out of you, trust me, _I know._ I can just imagine her now, all tanned and fit. Did'ja know she sunbathes naked? Hates tan lines that girl does," he continued, watching us burn with a smirk. "So, what's this one for, eh, keeping your energy up before she gets back? I never thought you had it in ya, I see you're finally learning from your trollop of a mother," he chortled, and his sheep followed his lead.

Now, I wasn't one for confrontation. Especially after my one incident with the Trunchball; Nanny Anne's disappointment supressed my need to fight back and I had never done so since. But Nate was the quiet, shy one, the golden boy who never fought. And my patience was wearing thin.

"Come on love, got nothing to say?" he teased, suspecting my growing anger. I gritted my teeth and held my chin up high despite the fear flooding through me. He tutted and leaned forward, grabbing my chin in his long fingers. His dark brown hair fell in his eyes slightly, making him look more menacing than I would have liked. I shifted my face out of his hand and glared.

"Bit of a minger compared to Zo, ain't she, Stephen?" a sheep laughed.

"No, no, this one's quite a beauty, Tom," Stephen said, obviously leering at me. I so desperately wanted to cover under his gaze but managed to hold off.

"Shut up," I said as the boys began laughing again. Embarrassment flared through me from the slight shake in my suddenly small voice.

Another of his sheep laughed louder. "Ohoho, this one's got a mouth on her, eh, Stephen."

"Just like, Zo," the one called Tom said.

"Ella, you put that mouth to good use like Zoe as well, yeah?" Stephen said. Disgust filled me but I was too shocked to retort. He knew my name. How on earth did someone like Stephen Casey know my name?

I was saved from responding or suffering from further humiliation.

"You don't know a damn thing about Zoe, or Ella, so shut your mouth," Nate growled, barely above a whisper, the tremble in his voice clearly visible. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles to calm him from his sudden outburst.

The boys all stopped laughing and turned to Nate. Stephen smirked mockingly at Nate. "What was that, Natey?"

"I said, you don't know a damn thing about the girls, so shut, your bloody mouth."

Stephen's smirk disappeared and was replaced by a murderous glare. I pushed Nate back slightly and stepped in between the two boys despite the counter separating them.

"Nate," I warned quietly.

"I can talk about whoever the hell I want, tosser," Stephen said. I looked over my shoulder to see him leaning over the counter once again.

"Nate, leave it," I whispered when I felt Nate make a move forward and pushed harder on his chest, knowing that a fight with Stephen Casey was not going to go down well. Nate had no experience in a fight after all, the only thing he would successfully be able to do is run away. And although I'm sure that would save his life, it certainly wouldn't do anything for his reputation.

"Yeah, Nate, get your slut to keep you from being beat the shit out of," a sheep taunted.

"Or is she the fighter?" another winked.

"Come on baby, fight with me." The sheep's voices all overlapped in a jeering song of catcalls and whistles.

My blood boiled, but I counted to ten and breathed deeply as Nanny Anne once taught me before turning to the boys.

"Out," I ordered.

"Oooh," the boys chortled, grinning at each other. "You gonna come with us, love?"

My hands were shaking tremendously. Nate must have noticed as he grabbed one and interlocked our fingers with a squeeze. But this did nothing to smother my fear and disgust and anger.

"I _said,_ get out," I commanded again, my voice louder and firmer in false confidence. What could I do if they refused?

Shaking my hand free of Nate's, I stormed around the counter and towards the door, but a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards the hard body. I looked up to see Stephen leering down my black top before meeting my eyes. I squirmed under his grip to free myself but he only intensified his hold on me.

"Such a fidgety one, aren't you, Ella?" he tutted in a low voice. "Am I going to have to…calm you down? Get you to relax? Tame you?" He lifted my hand and brought it up to his face. Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he pressed my wrist against his nose and inhaled deeply, then dropped it lower to his mouth and licked my palm slowly, in a move that could be interpreted as seductive. I was positively burning. Without thinking, I flexed my fingers and pinched the skin on his face tightly until he let go.

"Ah! Feisty one, aren't you. Bitch," he growled. I stumbled back, wide-eyed, staring at the red mark beside his nose. It reddened further, and then a slither of blood seeped out. Oh no. I did _not _just provoke Stephen Casey. I did _not _just make Stephen Casey bleed. I did _not_ just give Stephen Casey an incentive to come after me.

But I did.

The noises coming from Stephen's lackeys were a jumble of hushed whispers and lurid goading. Blood pumped in my ears, blurring out the barrage of cries. I watched Stephen press his finger to the pierced skin and look at the droplets of blood staining it. He chuckled.

"Damn, Ella. Real feisty." He lifted his eyes for a split second and smirked. "I gotta say, I like my girls gutsy."

What. The. Hell. The three words echoed in my mind, trying to get a hold on the thought that Stephen didn't look like he wanted to kill me – which I'm sure he was more than capable of. He stepped forward slowly, like a predator stalking his prey.

"Ella!" Nate yelled. It was then I noticed that two of Stephen's sheep had a hold on each of his arms, keeping him away from me. He was struggling quite a bit, either itching to get a good hit or to pull me away…I would bet on the latter.

"Ella…" Stephen crooned into my ear, his finger trailing my cheek and his mouth painfully close to my face. I almost flinched. Almost.

"Is there a problem here?"

Nate stopped struggling and was let go, the boys all staring at the newcomer by the door.

"'Course not, just popped in to say hi, didn't we boys?" Stephen answered. His sheep all murmured agreements.

"Looks like you're about done. Now get lost," George said with the most menacing glare on his face.

"Or what, ginger?" Stephen sneered.

I subtly shook my head at George, hoping he saw the slight movement. Stephen was taller than George, but George made up for the few inches difference with muscles and strength. He crossed his arms over his chest, inadvertently flexing his muscles.

"Or I get the authorities to come in and make sure you never lay a finger on Ella again."

Stephen scoffed but said no more, and left the shop. Even Stephen Casey knew when he lost. But Stephen Casey never really lost.

The remaining boys stumbled out the door, one by one, all eyeing up George, and one – Tom, I think – even bumping his shoulder on the way out.

I exhaled a deep breath I had been holding in and rushed over to Nate. "Are you ok? They didn't hurt you, did they? Oh, I can't believe that! Those bloody – "

"Ella! For god's sake, you barmy nut, I'm fine."

He was indeed fine, I found out as I checked him over. Not even a bruise. "You're sure?"

"Yes, now – oi, where's the ginger?"

_George! _

I whipped around to where George had been. But no one was there. "What…?" I ran out the shop and surveyed the small crowd in the High Street for any side of his bright hair. But there was nothing. How could he disappear so fast?

"Well…that was bloody weird," Nate stated as I walked back in.

I couldn't agree more.

"Stephen…has he really been with Zoe?" I hesitated to ask, but I knew I had to. Zoe wasn't the type of girl to go off with someone like Casey, but a lot of girls had fallen prey to him before. Why was Zoe any different? She was possibly the most gorgeous girl in Ottery, of course boys would notice her. But had she really been…intimate, with the perverted delinquent?

Nate shrugged.

The shop remained fairly empty after that, so I decided to close up early. Nate left after a quick snack at Imogen's, where I stocked up on cookies and muffins, and I hurried home with the twilight casting an ethereal orange glow over Ottery. Bill still wasn't back, so I cooked up a quick dinner of shrimp pasta and retreated to the pistachio-green sofa and put on the television. It was very small and hardly ever used; I mainly used it as a source for comfort as background noise in the empty house. The magical residue of the Floo only disrupted the signal, never causing it to burst like the light bulb after Bill used a levitating charm.

The images swirled around on screen – something about a short, dodgy London salesman with a lanky brother in a pub. It was one of Bill's favourites.

"Ella," a voice sang. I shifted in my seat, noticing an ache in my lower back. I must have fallen asleep on the sofa.

"Oi, get up you lazy arse."

Blinking my eyes open, I was met with red.

"Bill?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Nah mate, sorry to disappoint."

I blinked some more, clearing my vision. "George?" I sat up and noticed it was indeed, George. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"You left the door open, idiot," he replied. His smile left his face and he turned strangely serious. "You okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"With those boys? In the afternoon?"

Realisation dawned, and I shivered from the thought of Stephen so close, his tongue on my skin, his eyes burning through my clothes. I felt suddenly very uncomfortable in my own home. "I'm fine. Where did you go?"

George pulled on his ear and explained. "I only popped in to see you – good thing I did as well. My brother came with me today and I had to hurry back before he noticed I left him."

"Your brother was with you? What, Fred?" I asked, excited. "Well, why didn't you bring him?"

"After seeing that git all over you, I guess I just didn't want to ruin your first meeting," he shrugged and offered a pitying smile.

"Oh, you idiot!" I cried and hit his arm. "I've been dying to meet Fred for ages now. You should've brought him in."

"Next time, promise."

"Swear?"

George rolled his eyes and crossed his fingers over his heart. "Yeah, yeah, I swear."

"Good. Hungry?"

"Always," he winked. My stomach fluttered on my way to the kitchen. Who knew the same gesture could bring on completely different reactions contingent on the person? George's winks were always playful and sweet, not the creepy kind where you'd rather melt into a puddle and sink into the sewage. I grabbed the bags of cookies and muffins and returned to the living room.

"Ooh, Immy's. My favourite. Thanks, love," George said, rubbing his hands together and taking a large bite out of a blueberry muffin.

"How the hell do you stay so slim? You eat like a pig," I commented, distracting myself from the flurry in my chest.

George flexed his arm. "You're just jealous."

"Of what, exactly?" I snorted.

"My impeccable muscles, duh," he winked again and flexed his other arm._ Oh, please, stop doing that, there's only so much restraint a girl has._

"As if I want arms like that, no thank you. If you hadn't noticed, boys don't exactly like burly girls," I said, spraying cookie crumbs over us both.

"Oh yeah, and they really want someone who can't speak without spitting out all their food," he retorted dryly. I stuck my tongue at him. He shook his head and turned to the television. "What's this?"

"Only Fools and Horses. Bill's really into it. It's actually quite good, you should watch it." I explained the show, detailing the characters of Del boy, Rodney, Uncle Albert and, my favourite, Trigger.

Throughout my description, I caught George staring at me several times. The only light in the room was the flashing TV, casting shadows across his handsome face. When he saw that I caught him staring he didn't move, he just carried on, as if it were as normal as the need to pee first thing in the morning. I didn't know what to make of it, but to deflect the uncomfortable atmosphere I began describing another TV show. I couldn't tell you what is was about; I was pretty sure I was making it up as I went along, just to have something to say.

Which was another odd thing, I always found our silences comfortable. But today, I couldn't get over the tension I was feeling. Perhaps it was from what he had witnessed earlier in the day, I mused.

George smirked at the ending of fictitious TV plot.

"And that's an actual thing?" he asked.

"Well, yeah?" It wasn't supposed to come out as a question, but I could have sworn George wasn't that close to me before.

"So, the ginger alien finally fixed his spaceship but didn't want to leave the human he fell in love with, and then the townspeople tried forcing him away from her. Then she killed herself. That right?" he surmised, smirking.

God, did I really say that? "Umm…yes."

George chuckled and ruffled my hair. "You'll have to show me that one sometime mate."

I swatted his hand away. "Ge'roff."

"Touchy," he tutted, and leaned back on the sofa, his legs wide open and his arms spread over the back of the sofa. He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"Shouldn't you be going home?" I suggested. It was rather late – past midnight now. He had never come so late at night before.

"You wound me, dear princess! Why, does my company not satisfy you?" he cried in mock anguish, one hand over his heart.

I giggled. "Your presence has overstayed its welcome. What would your mum say if she knew you were out this late? At a girls no less?"

"She'd be shot to get rid of me," George winked. "And she'd be over the moon to hear I'm mature enough to find a girl."

I lifted an eyebrow. "No you're not."

George laughed. "What are you doing to your face?"

"What?" I relaxed my face and lifted my hands to assess it. Everything seemed normal.

"Your face scrunched up –" he paused through his laughter to gather his breath. His face was bright red. "Do it again!"

Without thinking, I quirked an eyebrow again and George burst out into a new round of laughter. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was silently laughing, his body shaking with each breath.

"What?" I demanded, frustrated.

"You – you can't lift your – eyebrow!" he replied, taking in lungful's of air.

"Huh?"

He shuffled closer to me on the sofa and lifted a finger, tracing the outline of my eyebrows. When he got to the middle of my left eyebrow he pushed it up and down, up and down, sniggering.

I pushed his hand away. "Sod off, git, or you won't get your birthday present," I threatened as I felt the outline of the cards in my pocket dig into my leg.

George made a show of lifting an eyebrow. "My birthday was over two months ago."

"Well, if you don't want it then…"

"NO – no. I'll be good," he removed his finger from my eyebrow and clasped his hands in his lap, adopting a childlike smile of innocence which contrasted greatly with the trademark mischievous glint in his eyes.

I giggled. "Ok, only so you'll hurry up and go, I have work in the morning again." I raised my hips to get better access to my pocket and took out the deck of cards. As soon as I sat down properly George snatched it out of my hands and began inspecting them in silence.

"So," I started after a moment's silence. "What d'you think?"

George looked up and shrugged. "S'alright, I s'spose."

"What, just alright?" I huffed, frustrated at his lack of appreciation. "Well fine then, that's the last present I ever get you. Now get out."

"Oi, relax will you," he chuckled. "I'm kidding. These are amazing." George flicked on the table lamp and angled the card around, watching the picture change from a quiescent blue dragon to a roaring one.

"You'd better like them."

George looked up again with a grin, then raised another card to the lamp light. "I do, honest. How do they get the picture to change?"

"Oh, I don't really know. It's called lenticular printing and I think it has something to do with getting different pictures and combining them together somehow. I never really got the details," I answered, surprised that he would ask.

"Thanks, by the way." He pocketed the deck and got up. "I should be off now, mum has a habit of checking in our room at random times. Honestly, you'd think she thought we were up to no good."

I giggled knowing his room was probably his lair for mischief. I got up and led him to the door. "See ya."

"Bye, love." I opened the door, and then George did something he'd never done before. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my cheek. It was only a quick peck – friendly, I kept telling myself – but it left me standing there long after he had gone.


	9. Unexpected Visitors

**Thank you to the follows/favourite and review!**

**A short(ish) chapter just as a little filler. We're finally moving on! WooHoo!**

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Going to work was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I caught Stephen hanging around the shop almost every morning, sometimes with his sheep, sometimes without, but he was always gone by the time my lunch break came around. He never came in or tried to talk – he just stood there, watching. It nerved me so much that I almost wanted to get Nate to walk with me, despite me living right next door. But then Nate would only make matters worse, I kept telling myself.

George visited me at home a lot, always after work. We spent our evenings watching Only Fools and Horses and whatever else was on. Other times we spent hiking through the woods, or sitting in my garden. We never did have that impromptu water fight.

George always had a new story to tell, a new crazy idea, a new addition to his bucket list. That's what I loved about him: he was always dreaming and he never limited himself, and he was always original. Instead of learning a new language, he wanted to create one. He wanted to beat his younger brother at chess, just once. And then once more. He wanted to design his own pack of cards with lenticular printing. He wanted to take his family on holiday on the other side of the world. He wanted to break hearts before falling in love. He wanted a successful business and to make a name for his family, to make his parents proud. He wanted to swim in the deepest ocean and jump off the highest cliff and waterfall. He wanted to juggle with sparklers at one of his siblings weddings. He wanted his unconventional wedding (I was too scared to ask) outside in the rain. He wanted to name his son after his brother. He wanted to die laughing at one hundred years old. Maybe older.

And before I knew it, summer was over. My last year at school and Zoe and Nate's last year as residents in Ottery St. Catchpole before moving on to their next life stage at university; Nate in Nottingham and Zoe in London.

The hallways were filled with the chatter of students, catching up on the gossip from over the holidays, the wistful tales of a summer romance, and embarrassing stories from foreign lands. I hurried to my last class of the day, hoping it wouldn't drag like all the rest had.

Sitting down, I stared out the window beside me, sighing and thought about what George was doing. He never delved much into his school, he always skirted around it when reciting a prank. Was he making a move on his crush, the girl he delightfully described as perfect? Or was he initiating the start of the new school term with mischief and mayhem? I sighed, anything he was doing was surely worlds better than was I was suffering.

Loud guffaws from the other side of the room broke my trance and I glanced over to see the Trunchball. I noticed some things in my once-over of her: she had lost a bit of weight, not much, but it was still an improvement. Her braces were finally off, leaving straight, faintly stained teeth. Her tiny nose still sunken into her chubby face. And her snake like eyes trained on me. Once I returned her gaze she smirked, and coughed over the ringing of the bell. Her crowd of minions surrounding her all burst out into cruel laughter and turned to take in my reaction. Prunella hacked even louder, attracting the attention of students walking by outside the room. I gritted my teeth and swivelled my head to look back outside the window, hoping the bright sun would calm by boiling blood.

Once Prunella found out that I was unresponsive to her mockery and bullying, she started on a different approach to rile me – mocking the death of Nanny Anne. I was twelve when she first attempted this new approach, and if Zoe and Nate were not with me, I was sure I would have sprung on her. But then Nanny Anne's disappointed face burned into my mind and I composed myself. Ashamed that I had let my raw emotions get the best of me, I vowed never to act so brash again.

Thoughts of Nanny Anne were always accompanied by Bill and I instantly became worried. He hadn't come back from the wizarding world. It was the longest he'd been gone without visiting, even if for a day. Was he in danger? No, he said someone would come and tell me if something had happened. But he had been gone for the entire summer, he hadn't wished me a good start to the new school year. What else could be the matter? Nothing else made sense. He had to be in some sort of trouble for him not to come back.

School flew by in a blur of classes, homework, gossip and more mocking from the Trunchball. Work at the paper shop wasn't much better; Stephen still hung around as much as possible – which shouldn't have been much what with it being his last year of college as well – and Zoe and Nate weren't available to help out much. The stress of exams and the stress of running the shop everyday was building up, and I was afraid I was close to boiling point – any longer and I'd erupt.

September and much of October dragged on like this, school and work, school and work, in a repetitive stream. The summer weather had long since departed and the autumn winds swept through Britain, dampening my mood further. The nippy air and foggy mists always brought back bad memories, bringing with it the nightmares that periodically made an appearance.

I trudged down the stairs and to the kitchen. The sky outside was dark – it was far earlier than I normally woke up. But I had another nightmare. Blips of it flashed in my mind every now and then, but it was otherwise forgotten, lost in the void between deep slumber and awakening.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and blinked to clear my vision. Last thing I need is to walk into a table and bruise myself. Grabbing a glass, I poured myself some water and gulped it down. The house was still quiet; I couldn't hear Bill's snoring. He still wasn't back. I sighed and sat down at the table, resting my head on my arms.

A shadow crossing the floor caught my attention and I lifted my head to get a better look. I quickly checked the time on the clock: 6.22am. My heartbeat quickened as the shadow whizzed past again, much quicker this time. I surveyed the table before my eyes landed on the knife rack. I gripped the handle in my hand until my knuckles turned white and held it out in front of me with trembling fingers.

Now, this was the bit where I either stupidly go and open the door to confront the intruder, or stupidly wait, watching the garden door only for the trespasser to jump out behind me and kill me without a second thought. It was a lose-lose situation no matter how I looked at it.

Before I could make a decision, a thump on the garden door made me jump, and the knife to momentarily slip in my hands. I could make out a small figure, almost as if it were curled into a ball. When I was close enough to make out the shape I sighed and thrust the knife back into the rack.

"Oh, you stupid cat," I muttered, opening the back door and letting in Kiwi. It meowed nastily, stretching its claws threateningly.

"Why the hell are you here if you hate me so much?" I glared at Kiwi, watching it stalk through the hallway and to the living room.

The heavens opened up to a torrential rain storm that afternoon. I hurried to my small Vauxhall across the road from the school in Ottery and slipped inside. I leaned my head back against the seat, droplets of rain running down my face and neck, my clothes clinging to my skin chilling me. Turning on the heat, I drove slowly back home. No one really bothered to focus on an underage teenager driving a car – it helped that Zoe was the one who brought it for me though.

The rain thundered down the closer I got to home. It got so bad that at one point I was barely even moving. I groaned in frustration when a bratty kid ran out in front of the car and skidded in the road. I honked my horn, only to be greeted with a crude hand gesture.

"Brat," I grumbled, and continued squinting through the rain. I definitely would not be opening the shop today.

The house was cold when I entered, causing an outbreak of shivers on my skin through my sweater. I quickly turned on the kettle, most of the lights and ran to change into thick, dry clothes – I could already feel my nose stuffing.

Thunder boomed through the house as I sat in the kitchen with a large mug of tea, relishing in the heat it spread through me. My nose twitched under the steam. Seconds passed before it twitched again, although more violently this time. Without warning, I let out an almighty sneeze, sloshing the tea over the sides of the mug and onto my clothes, the boiling beverage scolding my numb skin.

"AH!" I yelped, dropping the mug on the floor and holding the clinging, now stained material away from my skin. The tea pooled on the floor and pieces of chipped glass lay scattered around my feet. "Great," I mumbled, feeling my throat tighten from built up mucus. Could this day get any worse?

I hobbled over the broken mug and attempted to pull my new sweater over my head, but I underestimated how wet – and hot, it was. The garment clung to my undershirt, which in turn stuck to my burned skin. I cried at the feeling of my skin peeling, and stopped pulling the clothes off.

Another rack of thunder. The momentary distraction of the boom made me jump, and I landed on a large piece of glass. I yelled out as the glass pierced my skin and I jumped away from the linoleum floor to escape any more disasters. Plopping down on the rug in the hallway, I assessed my foot and noticed blood seeping through my sock. My eyes burned from tears gathering and I bit my lip to hold in the scream as I yanked out the glass.

Another roar sounded, much closer than the raging thunder outside. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the sound was familiar. Kiwi ran out of the living room and up the stairs with a small shriek.

"Bill," I whispered, the tears now threatening to break through even harder as I recognised the Floo. My emotions were a cacophony of the worst concert from an atrocious band, the heavy rock kind where you can't make anything out through the murderous migraine. I hopped up onto my one good foot – I wonder how long that will last – and limped/bounced through the archway. "Bill," I called out louder, my voice strangled with mucus and the lump which refused to swallow down.

I leaned in the archway, my hands on the walls either side of me to support the weight my foot was no longer able to. My eyes widened at the garish lavender and blue I was met with, the long beard I was surprised was as clean and pristine as it was, the twinkling eyes through spectacles watching my reaction and dishevelled state in amusement.

This man was not Bill.

"Oh," was all I manage to get out. _Stupid._

"Hello there, Miss Ella, I presume?" he greeted, is voice smooth and old, lacking Bill's thick, gravelly brogue. I nodded. I was sure I'd never seen him before, but he was oddly familiar to me still. "Of course. I believe Bill is your guardian, yes?" I nodded again, more alert now that he mentioned Bill. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Dumbledore, of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

My eyes widened. This was _the _Dumbledore! Stories, facts and scornful mocking from my childhood rocketed to the forefront of my mind concerning the man in front of me. I couldn't believe it. The throbbing of my foot and throat were completely wiped from my mind.

Then his face lost all sense of humour and kindness and turned solemn, the twinkle in his eye lost.

_No…_


	10. Decisions Decisions

**Chapter 10 already!**

**A short chapter with Dumbledore. I do hope I did him justice. **

**PS. in my previous few chapters I mentioned a British TV show called Only Fools and Horses. If you haven't already, I suggest you watch it. It's brilliant! Ok, ok, it's slightly old now, but it's still fantastic! And Trigger - my favourite character - actually played Barty Crouch in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire! You can imagine how psyched I was to see him in that, haha!**

**Thank you to the reviews, follow and favourite**

**Do enjoy :)**

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I don't remember moving from the archway and onto the armchair – Nanny Anne's armchair that had been vacant since her death. If I had been paying attention I would have noticed the tea I was holding was in the mug I had broken not moments ago. The tea which I was sure should have been burning my hands. But I felt nothing. My body was numb; I couldn't feel my injured foot, my hands, my stuffy throat.

My eyes were fixed on the scorch mark above the fireplace. It held no significance to me – it had been there long before I arrived in Ottery St. Catchpole. But it was the only thing I could focus on distantly without my eyes burning.

Fifteen years old and I was victim to yet another tragedy, another death of a loved one. I told myself I was lucky, that there were millions of children and families in third world countries losing someone every day, living in fear every waking moment. But I wasn't in a third world country. I wasn't in the middle of a war, yet my family were dead. And this wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this. I must have been a despicable person in a past life to deserve this: the disownment, being ostracised, the deaths.

Dumbledore's words echoed in my head. "_I feel we have met on the most unfortunate of circumstances, Ella. I deeply apologise to inform you of Bill…_"I didn't listen to the rest of his speech. I didn't want to hear it. I was back in my eight year old mentality, wanting to cry and lash out and crawl in a corner away from everyone but wanting comfort and love simultaneously, for someone to brave my immature struggling and hold me.

The lavender and blue of his robes were still from the corner of my eyes. He sat patiently on the pistachio-green sofa, a mug of his own sat on the coffee table. How long had we sat like this? In silence, contemplating nothing. Well, I speak for myself. Dumbledore was probably deciding what to do with me. He could leave me, being the bearer of bad news and leave me to wallow alone. Or he could offer me some company, for however long. Not many other options, I guess.

"When did he…?" I croaked, not daring to finish the question. But I didn't have to, Dumbledore understood and offered the tiniest smile.

"Yesterday. I believe you are aware of his…lineage?" I nodded. "Well then, as wizards, we are required to bury the fallen as soon as possible. I'm afraid to say it has been done," Dumbledore said in his soft voice. I was glad I wouldn't have to deal with another funeral, Nanny Anne's was enough to last me a lifetime – I never wanted to participate in another one again.

"Where is he…?"

"In the Wizarding world. It is near his childhood home, in Scotland. It is what he asked for."

We succumbed into silence once again. Being of pureblood descent to those likely to aristocrats, I was taught never to question things, that fate is not to be doubted and whatever will be, will be. None of that mattered now. Questions whirred around in my head. How did Bill die? What had he been doing that demanded to be kept a secret? Was he involved in illicit activity? Who killed him? Were they the same people who'd hunted him down during the War? How did he die? (No – scratch that, I'd rather not know.)

The mug slipped from my unresponsive fingers, and I was back in the kitchen, the scolding water burning my skin, the glass piercing my foot, the blood imprinting my footsteps on the shiny floor. But this time it didn't fall. It stopped an inch from the ground, floating in the air. I watched as it soared higher and higher and drifted onto the table with a _clink._ Dumbledore's lip twitched and he lowered his wand.

"I have other matters to discuss, Miss Ella."

I looked up and nodded. Being in the muggle world for so long I had forgotten what it was like to be in the presence of magic. It blew me away. I was nothing more than a muggle, I mused, watching in fascination the wonders of mundane magic that even a magical child could perform.

"Bill cared greatly for you, as I'm sure you are aware," I was not, for he had mentioned many times before that he felt compelled to care for me, after Nanny Anne. But I stayed silent. "And he asked a great favour of me." He paused. I noted this man was certainly one for dramatics. "He wished for me to be your guardian."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Now, this took a great deal of thought," Dumbledore continued, "but Bill was a good man – a _remarkable_ man. And after hearing of your…circumstances, I feel there is no reason for me not to care for you as Bill would have wanted. However, there are certain terms we must agree to."

I inwardly scoffed. Of course my life would be determined by a contract.

"I assure you that not all these will dictate you in any way, merely, they are guidelines, of sorts, to ensure your safety. Nothing at all like a contract, if you will," his lip upturned ever so slightly in a sort of smirk. I gaped. Had he read my mind? No, surely not. "But first, we must discuss your living arrangements."

"What of them?" I asked. I didn't care to think of moving, but what was there here for me now? I had no one to look after me here – not that that mattered entirely; Nanny Anne brought me up to look after myself as an independent woman.

"You may, if you wish, stay here. My visits will not stray from the weekends as I will be attending my duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts. You can continue your muggle education here and stay with your friends, working up to a muggle future in this world. I'm sure you can find someone to share your week with," he said. I should have been happy, being able to stay as I was. But for some reason I hesitated.

"And my other option?" I asked. I held my breath in anticipation.

His eyes twinkled again behind his spectacles and his lips turned up behind his beard. "Or, you may come to Hogwarts with me, where you can talk to me whenever you feel is appropriate. You can work, with pay, and even study in your spare time. What you study, is up to you."

"What does that mean, study what I like? What, you mean Hogwarts' classes?" I interrupted.

"Yes, you may. I can offer you private tuition with the Professors and give you all the necessary books. Your exams will be in private also, although you will be exempt from the practical. Your qualifications in these will aid you in finding a future job in the wizarding world. A Nursing Healer, perhaps, where not much magical ability is necessary, you could shadow a Healer and offer non-magical assistance. I hear that a few muggle practices are becoming more common. Working in an apothecary, a shopkeeper, anything without the demand of a wand really. We even have a squib working in the school, a Mr Argus Filch."

My heart pounded in my ears as he went on. I couldn't believe what he was offering me. In essence, it was the childhood I had missed out on. It was within my reach right now, just a small stretch and I'd be able to hold it, grasp it and never let go. I'd be back in the Wizarding world, I'd be _home._

"Will you need more time to decide, Ella?" Dumbledore asked and broke my thoughts.

The pros were bouncing around in my head, the cons completely over the horizon and on the other side of the world. I couldn't let this opportunity go. It was where Bill was born and raised, where he returned to before his last days on Earth. I could go, to honour Bill if nothing else. Surely he would want that, what he always wanted. And it was where I was born. And this Filch, he would understand and help me. He was just like me. And with Dumbledore just a corridor away…

"I've decided," I said.

Dumbledore smiled, as if reading the answer in my eyes. "I must warn you, Ella, to think very carefully before coming to a decision. This will impact your entire life, returning to the magical world. Are you willing to sacrifice your muggle life, away from your friends and education?"

I should have listened attentively to the warning in his voice. He was surely hinting at something. But I didn't care.

"I'm sure."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Would you be willing to leave now? I will lead you to your dorm and sort you with everything you need."

"Yes, now's perfect." I wasn't sure if the shaking of my hands was due to excitement or nervousness – most likely the latter. I was anxious, there was no denying that. "I'll just go and pack," I said, and stood up from the armchair to pack my belongings.

I stumbled over Kiwi up the stairs – I wasn't aware she was still here – and threw everything I touched into a bag.

Back downstairs, I was confronted with a thought. "Dumbledore, sir. The shop – Bill's shop, who'll look after it?" I asked.

"I will deal with that, Ella. Now, are you all packed?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the pet, are you bringing it with you?" Dumbledore smiled down at the cat nuzzling against his leg and stroked her fur.

"No, it's not mine. Shoo, get lost Kiwi, go home," I shooed her out the door. "I'm ready sir."

I turned back to Dumbledore to see him standing by the fireplace, the large green flames enticing me forward. He nodded to me and I followed, standing beside him in the fireplace.

"Hold onto my arm, Ella. You may not be familiar with the sensations from the Floo," he suggested. I held onto his arm tightly, my other hand gripping my bag.

I quickly surveyed the room to see if I had missed anything. I looked up to Dumbledore to see him gazing down questioningly at me, his blue eyes asking me the all-important question: _are you definitely sure? You can still back out… _I nodded firmly, cast a quick mental goodbye to the odd armchairs sitting side-by-side.

Dumbledore's voice spoke loud and firm, "Hogwarts School, Dumbledore's Office."

And I was consumed with the free-falling feeling, the sudden weight and lightness in my stomach and my feet floating off the ground.


	11. Hogwarts

**Well this has been a long time coming. Kind of. This chapter would have been out sooner but I had so many different ideas and orders to write this in I spent a long time sorting it out. And the dialogue was a cow to write. I honestly had no idea how to approach the confrontation (after weeks of thinking on it! All my original plans just flew out the window and hijacked a plane to the other side of the world) so if anyone has any suggestions on how to improve it please do tell and I'll get right on it.**

**Thank you to my wonderful reviewers _chocolatecheesecakes, MarineAstriella _and _Hopeeee! _Also thank you to all the follows and favourites, you guys make my day.**

**There's something that's been bugging me for a while. Does Ella seem a bit of a Mary-Sue to you guys? I'm a bit worried that she comes across like one. and that her personality is really...crappy, for lack of a better word. I've always had this problem with OC's and it would mean a lot if you guys give me some suggestions on how Ella would be a better character, obviously taking into consideration her being an ostracised squib whose carers both died. And I'm sorry if the ending is slightly bad/rushed, I desperately wanted to get this out before my hectic day.**

**Enjoy!**

There is no tyrant as merciless as pain - Stephen King [Duma Key]

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The first day of Hogwarts was by far the hardest. The night was spent sleeping peacefully after a quick meeting with Dumbledore and then once I woke up everything sunk in.

Bill was dead. I wouldn't wake up to make him breakfast, lunch or dinner anymore. No more anticipating his arrival through the Floo. No more manning his shop and having surprise visits from him. I won't ever hear his deafening snores again. He wouldn't ever drink another drop of firewhiskey after a particularly arduous day. He was with Nanny Anne; where he belonged. Where he longed to be since her death six years ago, leaving their vacant armchairs side-by-side, just as they had been throughout their years. The tears I shed only lasted that day. Since then I only felt a sharp stab in my chest where I'm sure my heart was close to breaking. What else was there left for it to carry on beating for?

There is no tyrant as merciless as pain.

The second day was easier. My dorm was shared with house elves, hidden behind an enchanted cupboard in the kitchen. Whenever the devious students opened it, it would reveal dusty and chipped plates, cobwebs inhabiting the corner with a spider or two. Dumbledore flourished his wand and I was able to enter the dorm with the other house elves. They kept me company, teaching me the wonders of Hogwarts meals and helping me adjust to the difference.

Then came the studying.

The hallways were silent apart from the raging October winds outside the castle walls as I turned the familiar corners I had become somewhat acquainted to. No, scratch that – I would've surely found myself on the opposite side of the castle (maybe even deep in the Forbidden Forest) if it were not for my guide, the infamous Filch, murmuring soothingly to his cat, keeping an eye out for any out of bed students. Many nights I could hear those out of bed students carping on about the caretaker and his infuriating cat, Mrs Norris. The duo never bothered me much, perhaps on account of another squib working in the magic filled castle. Not that he offered me much assistance either, grumbling under his breath but loud enough for me to hear. Never anything nice of course.

We paused on the rotating staircase, me gripping onto the banister until my knuckles ached, then carried on. Even after two weeks of scouring the floors of the castle at night I was not used to the moving stairs.

The wary- eyed Filch ("_Oh, my dear, if only that man would stop getting in more of these insufferable…kids…wasting my time…foolish…OI, back in bed you!_") was my guide for many of my nightly strolls through the castle and its grounds. The feeling of being in Hogwarts after curfew was incomparable to anything I'd ever felt. I was somewhat comforted by the snoozing portraits and the stars blinking down at me and reflecting off the Black Lake. This was where I was meant to be, I kept telling myself. Where I was prepped to attend since birth.

There was always some doubt niggling in the back of my head.

My father's parting words echoed in my mind even after all these years whenever I thought of leaving the confines of the kitchen during the day (_"Stupid squib! You don't belong here! You're a disgrace to magic folk!"), _keeping me away from the mockery from others like him, the bigots, as Nanny Anne called them. Bill had a much more colourful word for them. I allowed my hope of re-emerging with the magical world to take me away from my friends, my home, from the place I was sure I wouldn't be judged and ridiculed for what I was, like Filch. Poor Filch. His crabbiness and permanent scowl would not be so prominent were it not for the students cruel derision, uncaring of whether he heard them or not. In fact, they probably wanted him to hear. After all, a squib among wizards was dishonourable, even to the most sympathetic purebloods.

I brought this on myself; the fear. So easy it would have been to say no, to stay in Devon in the otherwise empty house. But I feared the thought of being on my own in the house filled with only dust and memories. Yes, I had the Brimble's and the Pike's to look out for me, much like the times Mrs Brimble had done whenever Bill done a runner, but they had their own families, their own routines. And I had mine. Had.

The gentle _tick tock_ _tick tock _of the giant pendulum reverberated through the hallways on the way to Dumbledore's office. I rested my frantic mind and focused on the mumblings of Filch for the remainder of the journey.

"Good evening, Ella. I hope you had a pleasant day," Dumbledore greeted with his usual twinkly, granddad-like eyes as soon as I entered his office. It never ceased to amaze me, seeing all his trinkets and magical knick-knacks, whizzing and flying and buzzing. His expanse of wall used as a library always called to me. What wonders and secrets gathered from over hundreds of years lied within this spherical room?

"Yes, I did, thank you sir," I smiled, sitting down on the chair before his desk, vaguely hearing Filch's groans of protest fading in the distance.

"Good." His beard twisted up: his version of a slight smirk. I was sure this man was a mind reader. "How are your classes? I hear you are progressing rather well."

Lie. Big fat fat massive lie. Catching up on five years of the Hogwarts curriculum was maddening, even at only two weeks of studying. The house elves in the kitchens gladly took over my duties (not that they let me lift a finger much of the time anyways) to ensure me time for homework and studying. Some even helped me when they could.

"They're ok. Got a lot more to learn," I answered.

"Much praise comes from Professor Flitwick and Professor Binns on your theory work and remembering material," he complimented with the tiniest wink. "Anyway, this was not my reason to call for you this evening." He paused. "How are you?"

"Ok, I guess. Bit cold." For emphasis I rubbed my arm over my thick jumper. The office was definitely warmer than the windy hallways but nowhere near as stuffy as the kitchen.

He dropped his head ever so lightly to peer over his spectacles. "You are not feeling forlorn or regretful of your decision to leave your home?"

Yes, I am regretting it, sir. I want to go home. I want Zoe and Nate. I want Bill. I'm scared. I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind, cursing myself for giving up so easily and sounding like my nine year old whiny self. "It does get a bit lonely down in the kitchens."

"My offer still stands, Ella. If you wish to return home, by all means, do not be afraid to say so."

His words were so common to me now, his gaze still sharp. "No, I want to stay."

Dumbledore nodded. "If you wish me to accompany you to the Great Hall during breakfast…"

"I'm not ready for that," I said honestly. How could I just waltz into a room full of witches and wizards and expect to be accepted when squibs are snubbed from the very society?

"Ella, perhaps you may wish to be introduced along with the arrival of our foreign visitors?"

"What visitors?"

He smiled crookedly. "Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, schools for wizards and witches in France and Bulgaria, will be arriving in mere days to participate in the Triwizard Tournament."

Ah, yes. I remember now. He had mentioned this on my first night when he was going over the school rules. He said it as a fleeting comment at the time but it was obviously something big. Always one for dramatics.

"I'll think about it."

"Be quick, only two days to go. Now then, are you having much trouble with any specific subject?"

"Well, I guess transfiguration is a bit daunting. The theory doesn't make much sense if I have nothing to base it on. I mean, Professor McGonagall does give a demonstration but she doesn't do it often and so I don't get a real sense of…what's happening and what's involved. Magically speaking."

"I see. I shall discuss other methods with Minerva and hopefully she will aid you further. Anything else?"

I said no. He greeted me goodnight but then called me back as I reached the door. "And, dear, the house elves will be teaching you the art of the other schools' foreign culinary delicacies. I do hope you enjoy treating your taste buds, I'm sure living with Bill all those years has you accustomed to pies and chips."

The sharp pain accompanied with the memory Bill stabbed my chest.

The next week passed by in a similar fashion to my first two weeks. I woke up early to prepare breakfast with the house elves, completed homework and studied some more, helped with lunch, more studying, got to know the other house elves and what their previous lives before Hogwarts were like, helped with dinner, and then went on a midnight stroll through the castle and grounds.

The day before the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students I told Dumbledore I would be remaining unknown, for a while at least. I couldn't bear the jeering that was sure to follow (_"Look! Another stupid, useless squib! What's she doin' 'ere?"_). And then the night of the Goblet of Fire came. Harry Potter's name still rung in my head. The eerie silence that followed. And then the hecklings. I couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the poor boy, orphaned into a muggle family away from magic. I felt I could empathise with him on some level.

A month passed in much the same way. And before I knew it, November was close to ending.

The afternoon was filled with sounds of roaring dragons. Dragons: the first task. I bit my lip nervously as another roar echoed through the kitchen. Many of the house elves carried on without a flinch but others jumped and dropped what they were holding, fixing it in seconds with a click of their fingers. Poor Harry, only fourteen and having to fend off a massive fire breathing dragon. At least, I think it was fire breathing.

"Is Miss not attending the first task?" a little voice squeaked.

I turned away from my potions book to see Bonnie the house elf. I smiled down at her overly large eyes and floppy ears. She reminded me of a bunny – an old, dirty, ugly bunny. "No, Bonnie. I have to study," I said.

"But Miss doesn't need to work on potions! Miss is very good. Triwizard tournament is very special occasion," Bonnie tried explaining.

"You're right." I closed my book and stood up. Bonnie looked up at me with a grin. "I should go and work on charms instead." Her grin was gone.

I exchanged my books and returned to a bench in the kitchen. I wasn't sure which house it fed but it didn't make much difference to me, I wasn't sorted. Dumbledore had explained to me that as a squib, the Sorting Hat wouldn't group me in a house. After all, they were founded by wizards and witches with magical ability.

Another roar. And then a loud booming voice announcing the competitors.

I focused my attention on my textbook. The crowd yelling and cheering every few seconds kept distracting me. What on earth was happening out there? My curiosity was raging against my doubt. No one would see me, they'd all be too focused on the task. I bit my lip, balancing the pros and cons – well, there was only one con and a million pros.

"Bonnie!" I called across the kitchen. She appeared next to me with a _pop._

"Yes, Miss Ella."

"Would you mind taking me out to the Quidditch pitch please? Just for a minute, I want to see what's happening," I asked.

"Oh! Yes, Miss Ella! Of course," she shrieked too loudly. Bonnie grabbed my hand and all of a sudden I felt a pressure in my stomach, the kind you get when you're trying to squeeze through a tiny hole. It reminded me of being born, funnily enough. Is that how babies felt? The feeling lasted no more than a second and then I was back on my feet, swaying in the blurry outdoors.

"Bonnie is sorry, Miss! Bonnie didn't mean to make Miss Ella sick," the house elf cried, holding my leg to steady me and pinching herself with her other out of habit.

I couldn't reply in fear of being sick. My organs were swimming inside of me, jolting my stomach and the soup I ate for lunch.

And then my vision steadied, my ears focused on the noise, and I was watching a dragon stalk a boy.

We were high up, behind a crowd of people but elevated so I could see over them. Poor Bonnie was too short to see anything over my knee. The crowd gasped as the boy fled from the dragon, its fire smacking against a large rock. His glasses were crooked on his face, his pitch black hair unruly. He ran from his safety and just missed another lick of fire. Soot marked his face and clothes. His face held boyish features. Only an idiot wouldn't recognise this boy: Harry Potter.

My hands covered my mouth at another close attack. No one paid any attention to the noises garbled in my throat. Good thing as well, I wasn't making much of an attempt to hide myself from the students.

Harry held his wand out and started yelling. I couldn't hear him over the cries of the students, but in no time at all everyone was pointing and looking in the distance. I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun and then gasped along with everyone else as a broomstick zoomed in front of Harry.

The crowd _whooped_ and hollered even louder as Harry soared up high and around the stands, the vicious dragon hot on his tails. I stood mesmerised at seeing him fly so expertly, darting away from the deadly fire and claws. For a second I could even hear someone cheering on the bloody dragon. He flew around the castle away from our eyes. Without the distraction of Harry against the dragon I noticed just how cold it was; I was shivering in my plain brown trousers and red jumper. Everyone around me was wearing thick robes, scarfs, hats and gloves.

Before I could dwell on my numb fingers any longer Harry soared back into eyesight, looking even more dishevelled than before. He swooped down into the pitch again. And then it was over as soon as he held up a large golden egg. The entire stadium erupted into cheers, jumping and hugging and kissing.

I jumped up with little yelps of my own, grabbed Bonnie's hands and danced around in a circle with her. I was bent down so low I was sure to have an ache for the rest of the day. We laughed together until the booming voice announced the end of the first task and began counting the scores for each of the four contestants.

"Bonnie, I think she would go now before anyone sees us," I said, bending down behind the excited students to whisper in her ear.

She nodded. "Does Miss want to close her eyes?" she whispered back. I closed my eyes and felt the tugging in my stomach once again. The sounds from the stadium left a buzzing in my ears when I opened my eyes to see us back in the kitchen. I sighed and flopped down on a bench, waiting for my stomach to ease back to normal.

"That was amazing!" I laughed, thinking back on what I had just witnessed. "A real dragon! It was huge! Oh, and Harry was fantastic! Bonnie, thank you, that was brilliant," I said to the house elf, leaned down and kissed her head. She stuttered over her words before bowing down and running off. Another house elf strolled past mixing a bowl. "Fizzy!" I called out.

The house elf turned around. "Yes, Miss Ella? Is something the matter? Is Miss needing-"

I flung her bowl onto a nearby table, spilling over some of its contents and grabbed her hands. Giggling, I swung her around in a dance, her feet high up off the floor. Fizzy was the happiest of the house elves so I knew she would have no issue – or at least much less of an issue – with dancing with a human during her duty. We danced and laughed much to the displeasure of some of the other elves. Being at Hogwarts was wonderful and all the magic I witnessed was always a pleasure. But the dragon just made it all the more real. I was in the wizarding world after all those years! And Harry flying! Actually flying! Away from a fire breathing dragon, the kind that I grew up reading about.

"Oi! Hurry it up already, would ya?"

"I would if this git moved faster."

"Don't rush me! These gloves are-"

"Don't go blaming those bloody gloves again."

"Someone's coming! Move it!"

"I'll do it you tosser. You go 'round the corner and keep watch. And look after those Honeydukes sweets!"

The house elves bustled around the kitchen with more energy, seeming unperturbed by the conversation just outside of the entrance to the kitchen. I had heard many students come in here before but it was always at night when I was out for a stroll or safely in the dorm behind the enchanted cupboard.

Fizzy wriggled out of my arms and dropped to the floor, grabbed her bowl and scarpered off to a corner.

The entrance opened, the portrait of the fruit bowl swinging in, the giggling pear quiet and excited. A tall figure entered the room, surrounded instantly by many of the house elves ("_What is sir needing today, sir?_"). Slowly, I backed away from the small group to the direction of the cupboard. It wasn't very far, only a few more steps and I'd be hidden away in the sanctuary of my dorm…

The boy looked up. My movements stalled. A sharp intake of breath. His eyes found mine without any effort at all, as if sensing my odd presence amongst the tiny house elves. His bright blue eyes. His eyes surrounded by pale freckly skin. His long red hair framing his pale freckly skin.

Not once since I had met George Weasley had he been stunned into silence.

"George," I breathed out, my voice barely audible. He was here, in Hogwarts. Hogwarts was his 'going away for the boring month's school'. Hogwarts: the school for witches and wizards. George…wizard…

He stayed silent, his red brows furrowed, either in disbelief or confusion. He didn't look any different to how he was in the summer, he'd only lost his light tan and his sunburn. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to dance, to weep. He was here! He was here all along.

"What're you standing in the way for? Move it, the champion needs his food" a voice came from behind him. George was shoved forward and my eyes left his.

"Ella?"

Confusion. That's what this feeling was. I was confused. No, I was more than confused; I was completely baffled. And shocked.

George was pushed by…George. Two Georges.

My eyes flickered between the two. Both Georges had exactly the same expression: surprised and bewildered.

"Ella?" It was George Two.

I rubbed my eyes. It was the weather – it must have been. It was colder outside than I realised and I was seeing things now. I was sick. That was all. There was only one George.

My vision was incredibly fuzzy and four Georges appeared standing on the wall. First on the right, then the left wall. Then they wobbled upside down.

"Whoa! Easy there, little one." Hands gripped my shoulders and pushed me down onto a bench. Two Georges were right in my face while the other two stood back. My head swayed some more. And then it was two Georges again.

"George." The George kneeling in front of me smiled and rubbed my arms.

"I'm here, Ella. It's me. What are you doing here?"

The other George stood quietly.

"But…what…?"

"George," the other George spoke, "What's going on?"

George sighed and stood up before sitting on the bench beside me.

"Fred, this here's Ella, my friend," George introduced. "Ella, this is Fred."

Fred. Fred Weasley. George's favourite brother and best friend, was his twin. Realisation dawned, and I didn't know how to feel. I was angry from not being told; happy that I was with George and finally meeting Fred; betrayed for not being trusted enough.

The anger pushed forward ahead of all my other emotions. The joy of having seen the famous Harry Potter against a menacing beast vanished. I couldn't believe he kept this big a secret from me! What was he thinking?

"Fred," I deadpanned. "Fred you're brother."

He smiled. "Well obviously. He does look a bit like me doesn't he? Reckon I'm still the better looking one," he joked, nudging my shoulder with his own. "What are you doing here? I've never seen you here before."

I stared back. "How could you not tell me?" I snapped.

George looked at me worriedly with a frown. "I'm sorry, Ella, I couldn't tell you about this, you should know. I swear I wanted to!"

"I'm not talking about you being a wizard." It was true. I knew the secrecy laws about informing muggles of the wizarding world so I couldn't blame him for not telling me that; how was he to know that I wasn't a muggle? "You never told me you had a twin."

George was lost for words. He looked between me and Fred, jumbled noises escaping his mouth.

"George," Fred said, opening his mouth for the second time. His voice sounded identical to Georges. I tried looking for clues to tell the two apart discreetly, but from what I could see they were exactly alike. Their hair was the same shade and length, equal freckles scattered across their faces, the same blue eyes. Hell, they even had the same posture! "What's going on? How long have you known each other?"

He deflated with a sigh. "Fred, this is Ella. She's from Ottery."

Fred nodded, accepting his brother's terse response as if it answered everything. He would have looked calm if it wasn't for his hardened jaw. Without another word, Fred took the food offered to him by some house elves and left the kitchen. George watched his brother go.

"Ella, I didn't mean to not tell you, I just...I couldn't…it never…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my arms crossed over my chest. All those years of us walking through the town, playing in the park, lying in my garden, all those times he had spoken about Fred and he had not once mentioned or even implied having a twin. We were friends, virtually best friends for six years, and he couldn't trust me with something so important. How long was he going to keep it a secret for? Was he ever going to tell me?

He sighed and patted the seat next to him. "You don't know what it feels like, being a twin. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's absolutely amazing having a partner in crime from before you were born., having someone so close to you. It's always been us, FredAndGeorge. Mum can't even tell us apart half the time," George scoffed, "But no one ever saw me for just George, y'know? Me without Fred just wasn't a possibility. Everyone just treated us as the same. And we are mostly. But it's the little differences that set us apart that no one cares to notice. And you were the first. And it felt nice, I guess."

George looked so sincere and sad. Instead of wanting to hit him – the feeling was still there, just not as much – I wanted to hug him. I was still hurt and betrayed. It wouldn't go away anytime soon, but I couldn't be mad at him when he looked like that; like an abused puppy, torn between his twin and me. His explanation was so honest and heartfelt. I couldn't bear to make him feel worse just when we've come back together. So I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for being a cow," I mumbled. George's arms wound around me and rested his chin on my head. "But you should have said something. You know I wouldn't have treated you two the same."

"Oi, I was nine when we met, cut me some slack. Besides, you never told me about this," he gestured to the Hogwarts kitchen. "I gave you enough hints just in case and you never bothered to let even one slip."

"You were an idiot. Still are actually," I chuckled.

"Cheeky." He pinched my rib. The silence didn't last long. "So what are you doing here? I swear, I know almost everyone and not once have I seen you."

I didn't want to say it. It still hurt. But I knew I'd have to tell him soon. "Come down here later and I'll tell you. I heard you have a party with a certain champion."

We let go of each other. George stood up with handfuls of bottles from the table. "You'd better. I'll make sure to come around midnight." He ruffled my hair as a farewell gesture, then sighed and looked to the portrait. "He's waiting around the corner. Reckon he'll want a word before we get back to the common room. I've got quite a bit of explaining to do."

I nodded and watched him walk away. "And Fred. Bring Fred with you."


	12. Harder than Before

**Shorter than I intended it to be but I have a kitten calling! Her owner more or less begged us to take her because she's ill, so, like the lovely person I am, took her a few weeks early and am now looking after a 5 week old orphaned kitten. And my brother named her Buttons. Like, why? She's my cat, I should name her.**

**Anywaaaaay, FRED IS HERE WOO HOO!**

**Thank you to _chocolatecheesecakes _for the review (you da bomb!) and to _sophialison1998_ for the fave (so glad!)**

**Please do leave feedback on how I can improve or what you liked. Or even the weather. It's quite warm but windy and grey in London.**

**And my updates may be restricted due to results day on Thursday (pray for me!) and then I have masterclasses at a university everyday next week from 8am to 5pm including travel. Blaaah why did I agree to that in my holidays! **

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

It was only after George had left that I realised he said he was going to be coming down at midnight, meaning I would have to forego my nightly roam around the castle. Until then I'd just have to keep myself occupied from any lingering thoughts on being with George and Fred (his twin!) and rather focus on explaining everything to them.

"Bonnie," I called to the house elf covered in suds by the sink, "What's on the menu tonight?" I clapped my hands, priming to immerse myself into the preparation of tonight's dinner. Food is, after all, the greatest distraction.

I paced around the kitchen, shuffling all the dishes, ingredients and condiments on the benches and counters to alleviate my jitters. The house elves had cleared up everything as soon as Dumbledore announced the end of dinner but I needed to move around. I checked the clock for the umpteenth time: 23.24. Still over half an hour until George would be arriving with Fred in tow.

"Is Miss Ella needing some assistance?"

"No thanks Bonnie, I'm alright," I reassured the house elf. She was perched on a bench, her spindly legs swaying back and forth as she watched my every movement. "You go off to bed Bon, I'll be up for a while."

Bonnie never retreated to the dorm unless I was with her. She had taken it upon herself to be my personal guide, making sure I was always comfortable and attended to. She had even refused to sleep in her own bed for the first few nights, insisting I use it even though I had my own, although it was slightly small (Dumbledore had since enlarged it).

"Is Miss Ella giving order to Bonnie?"

"No, no! Of course not, Bonnie," I almost yelled out. I still wasn't used to the enslavement history of the elves and couldn't tolerate to order them about. "It was only a suggestion, Bonnie. I know you must be tired, what with working all day. You need your rest."

The house elf jumped off the bench and bowed low, her long nose inches from the gleaming ground. "Bonnie is very tired, Miss. Thank you for being so kind."

She paused for a moment, her overly large tennis ball-like eyes inspecting her pillow case covering. I smiled, knowing her hesitance to leave but not wanting to question me. "Bonnie."

"Yes, Miss Ella? Is you needing something?" she asked eagerly, dropping her covering and clasping her hands together.

"You can take the book from my bedside table. It's bookmarked from where we were last."

Bonnie grinned. "Oh! Thank you! So kind is Miss Ella. Bonnie will try her hardest. Bonnie will make Miss Ella proud."

A _whoosh_ sounded through the room before Bonnie could reach the cupboard. The flames from the mounted candles flickered and several dishes rattled off their shelves and crashed, dispersing sharp, jagged pieces of glass across the floor. Soap flew away from the sinks and glided across the benches and floor before flying up and rubbing itself into my hair.

"PEEVES!" I yelled, swatting the bottle of soap away from my head. The damned poltergeist had bothered the occupants of the kitchen daily and it was bordering on ludicrous the mischief and mayhem he caused.

The giggling, maniacal poltergeist appeared high above, floating on his side with his arms behind his head, his orange hat tilted on his head, close to dropping. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees? Did a teeny-tiny voice call for Peevesy?"

Sopping wet hair clung to my face. Bonnie shrieked and hid behind my legs. All the house elves were frightened of the damned poltergeist and scurried away in his presence – mostly behind me. "What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing, Peeves? You shouldn't be down here at this time."

Wind rushed past me, and in the blink of an eye Peeves blew a raspberry right in my face. "Little Miss Ellie should be sleeeeeping! Or does you have a date tonight," he sang with a suggestive smirk. "Oooooh, a secret rendezvous in the kitchen! Oh, how ROMANTIC!" he bellowed. "Big nose Ellie with a boooooooy! A wizard boy!"

He resumed cackling once again and drifted from corner to corner, breaking as much as possible in his way. "Is that the Baron I hear?" I called out, recalling one of Dumbledore's useful hints ("_The Baron has a reputation for solving even the most meddling predicaments, even when he is not present_"). And then he was gone, leaving the room in a hell of disarray.

I sighed, surveying the damage. "Bonnie, you go on and sleep. I'll clear up here."

Without another word the little house elf darted off to the cupboard and vanished. I blew out another huff of breath, pulled my hair back from my face into a sloppy bun and began clearing up the aftermath of Peeves' disaster, starting by discarding the glass into a little pan with a broom. The soapy floor made it incredibly difficult so I mopped the slippery surface. I moved onto the mess on the tables once I was done clearing the floor, my face scrunching in disgust when I slipped my arm in a puddle of mayonnaise.

I was crouched on the floor, wiping the last remnants of some mush from under a table when the soft giggling of the pear rang through the kitchen. They were here! Hastily, I pulled my arm out from under the table and raised myself off my knees. If I had been paying any attention to my surroundings rather than my pounding heart, I would have noticed I lifted myself too early, thus smacking my head on the underside of the bench with a loud _thump!_

"Ouch!" I cried as quietly as I could, nursing my sore head. I shuffled myself further back – a safe distance away from the table – and stood up. I turned to see a red head standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hands in his yellow pyjama pockets and a thick red jumper with a G.

"George," I greeted. He smiled back, and with a quiet greeting of, "Ella," made his way over to me.

The mess Peeves had made was all cleared up, but I hadn't noticed the buckets and brooms left scattered all over. Neither, it seemed, did George, as he slipped on the mop leaned up against a table. Everything moved in slow motion. His hands flew out of his pockets as he stumbled and kicked a bucket up off the floor. The soapy water hovered in the air for seconds before drenching the floor and the unfortunate Weasley twin making him skid across on his bottom.

"Oh my god!" I cried, my hands covering my mouth from the laughter and groans attempting to escape. "I'm so sorry! I thought I'd put those away. Here, lemme help."

I shuffled over to the soaked red head and held my hand out. He gripped it tightly, slipping once again as I tried to haul him up. I chuckled, thinking of how heavy he had gotten compared to us as kids, back when I could easily give him a piggy-back ride. "Careful," I warned, as I attempted to help him up once again. He looked up at me and grinned. I couldn't help but smile back. Then his grip on my hand tightened even more, and instead of pulling himself up, he yanked me down into the sudsy pool atop him.

A shriek escaped my lips when the cold water seeped into my clothes. My hands flailed for a second before resting on George's chest to push myself as far away from the floor.

"Oh, that's cold. So, so cold. AH!" George's arm sneaked around my waist and he rubbed the sponge across my face and neck. "Stop!" I yelped against a mouthful of dirty water. "You arse! Get off me!"

George laughed but dropped the sponge and brushed my loose hair out of my face. "Careful," he mocked with a lopsided grin. I smacked his chest and stood up, frantically keeping my mind fixed on a certain greasy haired professor decked in a dungaree and straw hat to dispel the fluttering in my stomach. It had been months since I'd felt like this and a few minutes with George had me feeling like a little schoolgirl again.

"Help?" he asked, opening his arms out and crumpling his face up in a smile.

"Pfft, help yourself, git." I emphasised with a kick to the shin.

"Someone's crabby," he taunted, jabbing me in the ribs and shaking his hair out, eliciting a squeal from me. I whacked his hand away.

"I was already soaked before, you didn't need to make me wetter, George." I would have blushed at the undertone of my statement but George frowned.

"I'm Fred."

Oh. "Oh!" Awkward. "I'm – I'm sorry. It's just…your jumper. It has a G, I just thought that…" my words stumbled over each other. Boy, was that embarrassing.

Fred, not George, shrugged nonchalantly and returned his hands to his pockets. "S'okay. We swap them all the time. No one really knows who's who anymore so they just call us Weasley." Fred grinned. "A lovely way to introduce yourself though. Simply smashing."

"Glad you think so," I laughed. "So, uh, where is George?"

"Talking to a friend. Said he wouldn't be too long," Fred answered and sat on a bench.

Silence clouded over us for a moment. What was I doing? This was Fred! The boy I was dreaming to meet ever since George first told me of a prank of theirs on Percy involving breakfast, ants and soap. Think of something clever. Think! _Think!_

"So," I started, "you like…French food?"

Fred grinned. "Do I _like_ food? I'm sorry, are you sure you've known my brother for years? Bottomless pit of a stomach? Inhales everything edible in sight? We _are_ twins, remember. Although – I must confess that I'm far more handsome."

I chuckled. "I should've guessed. So sorry oh handsomer twin."

"I knew you'd agree! Can't resist my charms."

I grabbed a plate of the dessert I saved – and made especially for the twins – and sat beside Fred, offering him a sweet.

He quirked an eyebrow while eyeing the sugary bliss on a plate.

"Croquembouche."

"Cock-a what?"

"_Cro-quem-bouche,_" I giggled, emphasising the segments of the word. "What? Scared of a bit of food?"

"Pfft," Fred grabbed a white ball covered in caramel swirls and ate the sweet hole. "Loofs lie fearbax."

"Chew and swallow, please."

He did, licked his lips, and then corrected himself. "Looks like giant bloody earwax on cotton balls."

I rolled my eyes. "But what did you think of the taste?"

"S'alright I guess. Different." He peered at me from the corner of his eyes and chuckled. "Ok, ok, it was fantastic! Happy? I have to admit though, I never expected a girl to be cooking for me this soon," Fred winked, propping his elbows on the table behind him and setting his legs wide apart.

"Make yourself comfortable," I mumbled. I hadn't expected my first meeting with Fred to go as it was – he was so comfortable to be around!

"Where d'you learn to cook?" he asked, taking another sweet.

"The house elves taught me all the fancy French and Bulgarian food. I help them cook all your meals in fact. But I've been cooking for years now – since I was a kid." I ate a sweet.

"Next time I'm eating in the Great Hall I'll be sure to think of you," said Fred. "Wait – d'you eat here?"

I nodded. "Yup. Dumbledore said I can eat with all the other students…"

"But?"

"Guess I'm not comfortable yet," I shrugged. "I take it you're the older twin?" I asked, successfully changing the topic.

Fred chuckled. "Actually, no. But don't tell anyone, no one's supposed to know." He winked. "George's older by a few minutes."

"Oh. Ok. He always just spoke of you like you were the older twin with all the ideas and spunk. I'm sorry, you don't know who I am, do you?" I asked, suddenly discomforted. Here I was, talking to the boy I'd known of for years but never actually met, and he had no clue who I was.

"Don't worry 'bout it, George explained everything to me and how you were the reason he was always sneaking off to town," Fred said, casually waving off my worry and smiled. "In fact, I reckon you owe me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, more George than you, but you're involved too. The amount of times I had to cover for George when he wanted to 'pop down to the shops'. You can imagine my surprise when he returned home empty handed. No – wait, he usually had an apple with him."

The pear giggled again, slightly louder this time, and in waltzed the other Weasley twin. "George!" I welcomed a bit too eagerly.

"Ella!" he grinned, opening his arms wide. I jumped into his arms and embraced him for a short second before being put into a headlock. "Aha! What did I tell you, Princess? Never let down your guard."

"Ger'off, you bloody lunatic!" I shrieked, blindly batting away his hands from my hair.

George tutted. "Now, now Ella. I'm sure you were brought up with finer manners. What kind of a suitor wants a woman with the mouth of a troll?"

"Get off me before I castrate you and feed it to the Giant Squid!" He let go as soon as the word 'castrate' left my lips. "Arse," I muttered and attempted to fix my wet, stringy and knotty hair. What a fine impression to make on Fred! I thought bitterly, feeling the need for his acceptance. First the water incident that made me look like a drowned rat, and now this: my hair resembling a bird's nest.

"I know you don't mean that love, so I'll let you off this once," George said and took my seat beside Fred. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy underpants is that?" He asked, scrunching his face at the French dessert.

"Croquembouche," Fred answered, popping another meringue ball into his mouth.

"Cock-a what?"

"Bloody boys. Is that the only thing on your minds?" I huffed, walking over to the bench. I contemplated sitting next to Fred but diverted at the last second and sat on George's other side.

"Trust me love, that's the last thing on our minds. We only have two things on our minds – one of which I'm sure you could guess. Ain't that right, Freddie?" George said, flicking some hair out of his face and eating a sweet.

"You're disgusting," I stated, just as Fred replied with, "Alicia's always on your mind, mate."

George glared towards Fred who completely ignored the look. Was that George's perfect girl? Alicia? My heart plummeted. Even her name sounded perfect.

"And you're in Hogwarts," George said, diverting the conversation.

"Remarkable observational skills, George," I said dryly.

He jabbed me with his elbow and lobbed another sweet in his mouth, moaning from the sugar melting in his mouth before asking the all-important question. "So how come you're here at Hogwarts?"

Inhaling air didn't do me any good no matter how many times I stalled to answer. What could I say? Oh yeah, you remember Bill: my guardian? Well he was secretly a wizard and died but then Dumbledore came and invited me to come here as a favour to Bill as his dying wish. Oh, by the way I'm a squib.

Yeah, that doesn't sound so appealing.

"Where do I start?" I muttered to myself, pushing my loose hair behind my ears, contemplating all the ways I could start but deeming none of them acceptable.

"How 'bout you start with when you got here?" Fred suggested. "We've never seen you here before – which is shocking for one Weasley twin let alone both of us." I nodded.

"Since mid-October, I think," I answered.

"In the middle of the month? How comes? Why weren't you here before then?" George asked.

I twiddled my fingers together, keeping my eyes on them as I thought of how to explain.

In the end, there was only one way to say it. "Bill died."

Both boys were in complete shock. George must have explained _everything_ to Fred, from my sudden appearance in Ottery at eight years of age, to Nanny Anne, for he looked just as sympathetic as his twin. George must have read my thoughts from the expression on my face for he subtly nodded.

"Bill _died?_" George repeated.

"He was a wizard."

Their eyes widened. "Bloody hell," they whispered in unison.

"Was not expecting that," George continued.

I carried on. "Ever since Nanny Anne, he was just a shell. He changed. He wasn't the same again. And he started to go out on these wizard missions for god knows what, going away for days at a time. He never explained any of it to me. But he always came back. He always saw me off to school before a new term or year. And then one day I come home and Dumbledore's there, sitting on the couch."

The red heads were in silence as they took in everything I'd said. I had deeply edited the information, hoping that they wouldn't pick up on all that I'd missed that involved me.

"So, you're a witch? Were you home schooled all this time?" Fred asked.

"No," I answered quietly, keeping my head down to avoid their gazes.

"Huh? But we've never seen you here. And you knew that Bill was a wizard. You wouldn't have been able – or shouldn't've been able – to know that unless you were a witch," one of them said.

"And if you're a muggle...how are you here? It's hard to believe Dumbledore allowed it, regardless of who asked him."

"But I do know about wizards and witches, I've always known." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm a squib."

Silence followed my declaration. I dared not to open my eyes, and instead focused on keeping my head down, and the loose tendrils of my chestnut hair to curtain my face off from them. The pain in my hand alerted me to my clenched fists. I relaxed them slightly and rested them in my lap.

Internally I was battling with myself on how they would react. Not only had I told George, my childhood best friend, but I had also opened up my biggest secret to Fred, who I had only met hours ago. Would they shun me just as my parents had? Of course they would, all wizards looked down upon squibs, those born to magical parents who harboured no magical abilities themselves. My kind were not welcome. We were mocked, spat at, laughed at. Muggleborns were treated worse, yes. But squibs were just disdained, only recognised to suffer from hexes and jinxes as we couldn't protect ourselves.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to go back home, back to Ottery. It was a stupid idea, surrounding myself with witches and wizards. This was even harder than when I had told Nanny Anne and Bill. I had even seen from personal experience how the students treated poor Filch. What would make me any different?

Warmth enveloped my hand. Eventually, I opened my eyes and saw a much larger hand covering mine. George was looking down at me, his blue eyes twinkling and full of life. His lips twitched, and he smirked.

"So?"

"What? What d'you mean 'so'?" I asked, dumbfounded.

George shrugged. "So what if you're a squib. You're still my smelly Ellie."

"You don't…you don't hate me?"

"Hate you? How can I hate you, Ella? So what, you can't do magic. You've never been able to for the last seven years we've known each other."

A smile spread across my face. "You mean it? You don't care that I'm a squib?"

"'Course not! In fact, I'm quite glad."

"Why's that?" I asked. Never before had I heard a reason why a wizard would like a squib.

"You're here now. If you were a muggle I'd have to wait forever before I got to see you again," he answered and squeezed my hand.

I laughed and threw myself into George's chest, relieved that I wasn't about to be taunted any time soon. He was _George Weasley_! How could I ever have thought he'd hate me based on my blood status?

"Easy there, Princess. You're going to break something," he laughed, patting my head roughly with his hand. I was sure a few tears escaped my eyes, but I paid no mind to them.

We separated our limbs and laughed.

"Well now Ella, I do believe we have a few stories to share," George said, tapping my nose with his finger. I smacked his arm. "Feisty. Oi, got any more sweets?"

I rolled my eyes and went to get another dish of dessert, keeping myself nestled close to George on the bench once I returned. The rest of the night (technically morning) was spent with the twins regaling stories of their pranks in Hogwarts and at their home, The Burrow. They told me all that had happened over the years at Hogwarts, the Quidditch World Cup and their future joke shop.

Nothing could break the elation warming me from the pit of my stomach as George intensely impersonated a prank carried out on some Slytherin students. I was accepted. Truly accepted for what I was by wizards!

The cloud of bliss I was floating on distracted me from Fred's glares and scoffs throughout the night.

"Ella, why do you stink of mayonnaise?"


	13. Warm

**I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG WITH THIS CHAPTER! I've had a pretty rough few weeks and have just completely disregarded my writing. I did try, honest, but the most I could come up with at a time was about two or three sentences. I've busied myself the past few days to get this done and out. My time has been spent on taking care of my mum, the boys, the house, my cat, the gym and now college. **

**I've also had a massive inspiration burst, so keep an eye out on my bio for some new story summaries! I've got a GeorgexOC fic in mind that I cannot wait to start on! So excited for that one.**

**I'd also like to apologise for the lack of reviews I've been giving out. I've had little time to read let alone review, however I promise to catch up as soon as possible and I will review on every update I get next. Pinky promise.**

**Thank you to everyone who followed/favourited/reviewed and messaged. You guys are amazing!**

**I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. It seems a bit of a filler to me. Sorry! The next chapter will be more exciting (hopefully).**

**I'll let you get on with this now.**

* * *

For the first time since being in Hogwarts I woke up feeling warm. Not the kind of warm when you stand in a hot kitchen, soaking in the heat and radiant smell of cookies baking; nor the kind of warm felt when laying on sand on a lovely summer's day. This was the kind of warm that was long anticipated that started somewhere deep inside and spread to each individual finger and toe, awakening frosty limbs; it felt like a tight embrace after spending the night in icy winds.

And for the first time in years, I felt accepted. Warm.

I skipped through the morning and danced around the house elves, my energy running solely on the delicious warmth. Said warmth was reimbursed with a pleasant surprise from the twins just before breakfast with a grin and 'good morning!' This, of course in my better than wonderful mood, warranted a before breakfast snack of some pre-prepared trifle much to the delight of the two boys. It carried on through the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon.

And then came my lessons.

"Miss Wood! Do pay attention."

The words in _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _burned my eyes as they darted over the alphabet and formula. I had been stuck in McGonagall's office for just shy of an hour and my head was pounding with a headache like there was a bulldozer on a rampage in there. I had endured an hour of Potions with Snape and two hours of Herbology with Sprout already. Transfiguration was my last lesson of the day and I was counting down the seconds until I could leave when Professor McGonagall snapped.

"Sorry Professor," I murmured, returning to the book before me. It was embarrassing, learning and struggling with first year magical theory when I should have been learning fifth year material. History of Magic was by far my best lesson, followed by Herbology. I put this down due to the lack of magic involved, whereas the subjects like Transfiguration and Charms heavily relied on magic and a wand, making it impossible for me to grasp. Although Flitwick would never admit to overpraising my lacking skills – he believed the sun shone out of everyone's arses, bless him.

"Miss Wood, please! I understand the late hour however you shall not slack in my lesson," Professor McGonagall said as I muffled a yawn behind my hand.

"I'm sorry." My stomach rumbled.

I often wondered why I needed to study the core subjects which involved the most magic when it would do me no good, but Dumbledore assured me that it was a necessity for me to at least learn the fundamentals. McGonagall's strict and no nonsense demeanour scared me to open up to her normally. But I was far too tired to care right now.

"Professor? May I ask you something?"

McGonagall put down her quill, clasped her hands together and nodded.

"I was just wondering…"

"Yes, Miss Wood?"

"Why am I doing this?" I asked hurriedly. McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "I mean, I understand having to learn the basics, but…is it possible for me to drop some subjects? Because, they won't really do me any good in the future, will they? And it's not like I can actually do the magic. And-"

"Miss Wood," McGonagall cut me off from my rambling. "This is not the time for a discussion like this. And besides, Headmaster Dumbledore would be a more suitable person to ask, for he is the one enrolling you in the theory exams. However, under the circumstances of your magical ability, I have no doubt that the Headmaster, should you be persuasive enough, will offer you unique alternatives." She flicked her wand and my book slammed shut. "That will be all for today."

"Yes Professor," I said, packing up my book, parchment and quill.

"And Miss Wood." I turned. "You have the potential to be successful, whether or not you are able to conduct magic. Your work as of now is quite astounding. I do believe you will be moving up to the second year syllabus in no time. I must insist, however, you begin working on thinking you can do just as well as the other students. Putting yourself down will not do you any favours."

I smiled. "Thank you Professor."

I left her office, the foreign symbols of Transfiguration swirling in my mind's eye as I crept through the dark hallways back to the kitchen.

The noise overhead from the Great Hall had long since died down, the clutter all cleared away and the warmth slowly chilling. The flames from the great brick fireplace flickered in the high-ceilinged room, as large as the Great Hall above it, and filled the kitchen with soothing crackles and hisses.

Bonnie appeared with a light _crack_ in front of the plush armchair I was residing in, _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk _balanced on my leg, and handed me a mug of hot chocolate.

"Thanks Bon," I said, smiling at the tiny house elf and holding the mug close.

"Miss Ella is very welcome," she said.

"Say, think you can help me with some charms?" I asked, carefully sipping the scolding liquid, wondering if the little house elf could offer me any help with my studying.

Bonnie nodded enthusiastically. "Of course Miss Ella! Bonnie is good with charms." She clicked her fingers and in a flash, the textbook was in her hands.

I frowned, thinking carefully. "Bonnie, do you know how charms works for wizards and witches?" I asked slowly.

"What is Miss meaning?" she tilted her head.

"I know house elves use magic differently – I mean, you don't even need wands! So do you really understand the theory and incantations behind spells?"

Bonnie thought hard before sighing, dropping her head low and shook it slightly.

"It's alright, Bon. I'll manage," I assured the snivelling house elf, carefully taking the book out of her trembling hands.

Twenty minutes later, three empty mugs were strewn across the floor, one half empty mug on the arm of my chair, and my head drumming painfully. The paragraph I re-read for the seventeenth time made no more sense than the first couple of times; in fact the words blurred together and I couldn't make out one word from the next. It might as well have been written in Arabic calligraphy.

I growled under my breath, gulping down the last of the now cold chocolate liquid and dropped the mug with the others. The thought of flinging the offending textbook into the fireplace was so tempting…just one throw and this madness would end…my fingers twitched and gripped the edges…

The pear giggled. The portrait door opened.

"Honey, I'm home!" a familiar voice yelled.

Three figures entered the kitchen and made their way over to the other armchairs surrounding the fireplace, two of them identical red heads and the other, I was surprised to see, a dark skinned boy with dreadlocks falling into his face. I froze as he completely disregarded my existence and strolled past me.

"Ella! My dearest, how are you on this fine evening?" George greeted, wrapping his arms around my neck from behind, slightly firmer than comfortable, and rested his chin on my head.

"Whoa, what's with the mess?" the dark skinned boy asked, kicking a stray mug away and sitting himself down in an armchair, Fred taking the other.

"Our Ella here is a bit of a pig, aren't you love?" George said.

"If I'm a pig I dread to think of what you are," I grumbled, twitching away from the stray strands of his hair tickling my cheeks. My palms began to sweat and I had to busy them to hide my discomfort. I had only reacquainted with George and met Fred yesterday, and now they were already bringing in another person…were they mad? Did they not realise how hard it had been for me to open up to them?

"Oh-ho-ho! I like you," the boy leapt out of his seat and pushed a hand toward me. "Name's Lee, and I'm the handsome one out of the troublesome trio." He flashed a charming smile and winked.

Speech failed me for a moment before I was able to reply. "Troublesome trio?" I quipped, shaking Lee's hand. He bent low and placed a gentle kiss, quickly jumping away from George's slap after a lingering second…or two.

"Rather fitting, wouldn't you say?" Lee said, flopping back in his seat. "Hogwarts' most troublesome students!"

"_They_ say trouble, we rather the term incorporating life and laughter in this dreary old place."

"Misters Wheezy's! Mister Jordan!" Fizzy yelled, appearing before us.

"Ello, Fizz," Fred grinned at the beaming house elf.

"Is Misters wanting some butterbeer tonight?" she asked.

"That'd be swell, thanks Fizz," George said, finally moving away from my chair and to the floor by Fred's feet, swatting his foot away when it swung over his shoulder.

With a _crack! _the house elf was gone. And all eyes were on me.

"So, Ella, was it?" Lee inquired. "Heard all about you. 'Course, only since this morning, but might I say, you are far more enchanting than these blithering idiots' appalling description." He winked.

"All about me, you say?" I couldn't help but ask. They wouldn't…

"Oi, Lee," George started just as Fizzy came back and handed butterbeers out to a call of cheers, "Stop scaring the poor girl."

"Merlin forbid you have another victim to your so called charms," Fred added.

"Don't listen to him Ella," George said, "Lee's always leeching onto girls. Freaked out most of the female population of Hogwarts already, even McGonagall knows to steer clear of the prat." The twins chuckled, seemingly to some inside joke as Lee sneered at them.

"Smoother than you gits," Lee muttered. Then directed his attention onto me again. "So what you doin' down here?"

"Um…" I stammered, not wanting to admit my struggle with first year charms. But then, I also didn't want to explain as to _why_ I was struggling with first year material when I was clearly not a first year. That would bring a whole load more questions I was not willing to answer.

"Charms?" I jumped, banging my head on George's chin. I hadn't noticed he'd gotten up. "What're you doing charms for?"

"No reason, just some light reading," I stuffed the book down the side of the armchair and held tight onto the mug of butterbeer Fizzy gave. "What're you doing here?"

George eyed me, his face frightfully close to mine as he was leaning behind the chair. Before I knew it he was pushing me forward and climbing on behind me.

"Oi! What the hell d'you think you're doing?" I shrieked, scooting back as much as I could to avoid falling off while George spread his legs on either side of me and held my waist firmly.

"Getting comfy, floor's too hard," he reasoned. "And by the smell coming from Fred's feet I reckon he hasn't washed in a good while."

A shoe soared through the air in our direction. I gasped and shut my eyes, George ducking away from the shoe. The smashing of a glass was heard, followed by a, "I is sorting this Miss Ella!"

"Git," Fred chuckled with the boys.

"Fizz!" Lee yelled. She appeared in front of him with a plate of profiteroles. "You're the best!" he exclaimed with a grin and affectionate pat to the head before diving in.

"Give us one!" Fred demanded, only to be met with chocolate smeared on his head. "I swear on Merlin's saggy arse, one day Lee, one day you'll get it."

Lee and George burst out laughing. Even I had to muffle my laughter behind my hand, seeing Fred's red hair coated in melted chocolate. My leg tingled as something hovered over it and I twitched away from the sensation, painfully aware of George's body squished against mine as I moved closer to him.

"Shouldn't you boys be in bed?" I asked, taking a levitating profiterole courtesy of George.

"Should be, yes-"

"But we got bored-"

"And we needed to get George away before he embarrassed himself," Fred finished with a pointed grin to his twin.

"Why would George embarrass himself?" I asked Fred, ignoring George as he mumbled under his breath.

Fred smirked. "Because he was being an idiot making gooey eyes at _Alicia_," he sang out her name. Both he and Lee then scrunched up their faces and puckered their lips, moaning out loud and thumping their backs on their armchairs to create the sound of banging. I shifted uncomfortably at their raucous display.

"And Merlin forbid if she saw! Probably scarper off to the Slytherin common room," Lee said.

"Oi! You're one to talk, Lee. Remember that poor Hufflepuff? This git scared her so bad she actually forgot where her common room was and ended up in the dungeons," George retorted. Lee groaned into his hands and then drained the remainder of his butterbeer, as if it would permanently clear his mind of the, what I can only imagine as being dreadful, incident.

"Still reckon George's infatuation with Alicia is the worst though," Fred remarked once he had composed himself after his fit of silent laughter.

"It's not a ruddy infatuation," George muttered.

"George's right," Lee said, nodding solemnly.

"Our Georgie's been bitten, stung, whacked over the head by the love bug," Fred replied just as gravely, a grim frown on his face.

"Sod off, I'm not in love," George bit back.

"But what about in fourth year with-"

"That was years ago! It doesn't count," he grumbled, a chuckle breaking out after a moment. George wrapped his arms loosely around me, dragging me back until I was leaning against his chest. He removed his arms then and positioned one on the arm of the chair and the other on my thigh. I forced myself to focus on the butterbeer in my hands, still untouched.

Fred's eyes found mine and his gaze darkened ever so slightly. "We must be boring you, Ella."

"No, 'course not," I replied quickly, uncomfortable under his gaze. "You guys sound very suave with the ladies. I need to see you boys in action one day."

Fred scoffed and pointed his wand at the now empty tray that held the profiteroles, frowning upon seeing there were none left. "What about you?" I asked him.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What about me?"

"Don't you have any embarrassing stories about a girl you tried to woo?"

Fred opened his mouth to reply, his face twisted in a slight scowl, but was suddenly interrupted.

"Aha!" George exclaimed, one hand firm around my middle and the other holding high my charms book, no longer wedged between me and the armchair. I gasped. "You call this light reading? It's a ruddy massive textbook!"

"George!" I yelled, stretching out an arm to the book and the other desperately fiddling to loosen his arm. "Give it back. It's none of your business!"

One of the qualities I found most endearing about George was his ability to tease endlessly. It always astonished me how happy he always seemed to be, how he could be a sunshine in a storm. And he always knew when to stop. But this was not one of those moments, for he lobbed the book over instead of handing me the book and ending his joke. Lee jumped out of his seat and caught it expertly.

"Should've been a chaser!" the dark skinned boy cheered.

"Oi! Stop- give it!" my fidgeting increased concomitantly with my panic, my fingers now scratching at George's hands. "Seriously guys, stop."

"Whoa, first year charms?" Lee whistled, observing the book. "What're you doing with the first year book for?"

The Troublesome Trio's eyes were on me, waiting for an answer. I stilled in my movements and stood up and away from George, now no longer attempting to restrain me.

"Because…because…"

"Yes?"

I huffed, my eyes trained on the floor. "Because I'm bloody learning it."

I didn't look up to see if they had heard me. Hell, I hoped they hadn't. But luck was not on my side. The silence was broken by laughter. My shock made me look up to see Lee clutching his stomach.

"You-You're…you're l-learning f-f-f-irs-st year magic! What, d-did you f-f-forget _wingardium leviosa? _Swish and flick!"

My face heated up and my eyes burned. Of course he would laugh! He was ignorant just like all other wizards. I blinked harshly, determined not to cry. I'd done enough of that over the years.

The twins stood up and marched over to Lee. It was George who pulled Lee up and shoved him hard.

"What the ruddy hell was that for?" Lee yelled, backing up when the twins both pulled out their wands. George held his out, pointed towards Lee. Fred's was hung limply by his side.

"Don't," George started, his voice hard, "Mock her."

Lee frowned, his eyes flitting between George's outstretched wand and his face. "Alright, I won't. It was just a joke." George began to back away, and then Lee spoke again. "I don't see what's wrong with that anyway. First year charms was simple."

"George," I called softly. His face was filled with conflicting emotions. I sighed. "Lee, sit down."

I assumed my armchair again as the other boys took their seats, George sitting on the arm of my chair with his arm rubbing my shoulder.

"What's going on? Why are you guys so…serious?" Lee asked.

"You want to know why I'm reading up on first year charm theory. I'm going to tell you."

"Ella-"

"No, George. He's your friend, if you trust him I don't see why he shouldn't know." My gaze softened. "I can't expect you to keep this from him. Not after all those years of secrecy from Fred," I whispered the end, knowing the hurt Fred went through after finding out the truth. He nodded.

"So then, Lee, I'm not exactly a student here…"

The lemon sherbet was sweet and tangy on my tongue as I sucked on it. Fawkes sat upon his perch, watching me as I observed Dumbledore's office yet again. There were so many objects; far too many to take in on a few visits! For instance, I had never noticed the whizzing ball on his second shelf against the far wall, the gold ring spinning around it, not dissimilar in structure to the planet Saturn. The etchings on the side of his desk were glimmering lazily, like miniature stars stuck to the wood. His office was the most amazing place in the whole of Hogwarts in my opinion.

Fawkes' feathers were soft beneath my fingers. The phoenix hummed contentedly in his chest.

"Ella, how nice to see you again," Dumbledore greeted in his smooth yet gravelly voice. He sat down in his chair and smiled down at me. "How is everything?"

"Good, good. I, er, bumped into some Gryffindors the other day," I said to him.

"Yes, I am aware. How did that go then?"

A large smile escaped my lips despite my teeth dragging my bottom lip up. "Good. Really good. They know."

"Those Weasley's are rather marvellous at accepting others. And Mr Jordan too. Of course, he'd have to be, what with being the twins' closest friend," he smiled knowingly.

"How did you know?" I shook my head. "No- wait, never mind. You know everything." Dumbledore chuckled under his breath lightly.

"And how does it feel – being accepted by three wizards in the space of two days?"

"I feel…" I didn't know what I felt to be honest. Thrilled, obviously. Overjoyed, in fact. Surprised, shocked, absolutely giddy. But there was something else there that I couldn't quite put my finger on. "I feel brilliant. Warm."

"Warm sounds good. And how did Misters Weasley's and Jordan take the news?" he asked, peering over his spectacles and fingering a lemon sherbet.

"The twins were fantastic, George especially. Well, he would be; we've known each other ages. Lee was shocked for a minute, but he got over it pretty quickly. He's fine with it as well though." I smiled, recalling Lee's words straight after my admission.

_Lee eyed me top to bottom, his mouth slightly open and his eyes bugging out from behind his dreadlocks. "You're ruddy hot for a squib. Nothing like Filch, that's for sure."_

_I rolled my eyes and giggled, delighted by the fact that he wasn't being bigoted._

"_So you're cool?" I asked._

_His eyes met mine. "Of course I am! Do I look like I want to gut your organs out and sell them on a corner in Knockturn Alley? No, so shut up and give me some love!" he bellowed, grabbing me in a humongous hug._

"_Don't forget me, gits!" George yelled, hugging us both from behind. "Come on, Freddie-boy! There's still a bit of Ella left for you."_

"_You're all a bunch of morons," he grouched, but nonetheless swung his arms around George and Lee and jumped several times, rumbling our group hug. I laughed up at him when he stopped. Fred met my eyes. The mirth in his face cleared away, replaced by a scowl as he looked away and thumped Lee on the head for his joke on Fred's sexual preferences._

I frowned. Perhaps Fred wasn't as alright about is as I thought…

"I'm glad. Professor McGonagall informed me of a visit from yourself soon. I don't believe it was about this."

"Yes sir, um, I asked her about it…and she advised me to come to you," I said, nervous about how he might react to my query. He is the one who said it was compulsory for me to learn the fundamentals after all.

"And what is it you are wondering about?"

"I was hoping…that maybe, erm…you could- if perhaps I could, kind of…" I heaved in a breath before continuing. "If I could change my subjects."

The headmaster nodded slowly. "I see. And what did you have in mind?"

I stared at him, mouth agape for a moment. "Seriously? Just like that? You're not even going to ask why I want to change them?"

"Would you like me to?" Dumbledore smiled. "No, Ella. You have attempted the core subjects already, and if you feel that you are not comfortable continuing with them, I will allow you to choose what you would like to study. I understand how hard it can be for you to grasp the more magically involved subjects. I'm sure there will be no problem at all with an exception in your case."

A grin crept on my face. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."

"You are most welcome, Miss Wood. After all, Bill was a large enthusiast of extracurricular subjects, it only seems right for you to take after him," he winked.

The tiny sombre pang hit me again, and a sad smile came onto my face.

"So, shall we review your options?"

"Yes please, sir. That would be wonderful."

"How do you feel about Care of Magical Creatures? It seems Fawkes here has likened to you perfectly well. Perhaps a visit to Hagrid's hut will enable you to get a better idea on what you will have to put up with…"

"So what are you doing now?" George asked, taking a large swig of butterbeer.

I looked up at him from my cushion on the floor next to his feet, occasionally rubbing his calf as he swung it near me. "I've dropped transfiguration, charms, herbology and defence against the dark arts. Now, I'm doing astronomy, history of magic, potions, ancient runes, muggle studies and care of magical creatures," I said, counting them off my fingers.

"Can't believe you chose to keep potions. I mean, what sane person would do that?" Lee cried, falling back dramatically into his armchair.

"God knows. I'm not too bad at it, although Snape thinks otherwise, but I kind of like it. It's like chemistry, and I was alright at that back at school." The boys frowned at me. "Chemistry. It's sciencey. Mixing chemicals and ingredients like a potion."

The Gryffindors all made noises of assent, to which I rolled my eyes.

"And why muggle studies?"

"I grew up as a muggle in a muggle town. I think I would know more than the average wizard. Should ace the exam with flying colours," I explained, whacking the cushion on George's stomach as he kicked me lightly.

"No arithmancy? Alicia is forever moaning about that lesson. Thought you'd want to challenge yourself a bit at least," Fred said, breaking us out of our mini fight.

I frowned. "Potions isn't easy, it's quite challenging."

"You just said you were good at it," Fred retorted, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. Doesn't mean it's all easy. And ancient runes isn't exactly a walk in the park either."

Fred let out a loud 'HA!' throwing his head back as he did so. "That's just like learning another language."

"Well what would you rather I do?" I huffed. It had been a long day, despite it being a Saturday. Students had been entering and leaving the kitchen throughout the morning for some snacks from the elves, leaving me to spend much of the day in my dorm in hiding, most of the time on my own. I spent the morning catching up on studying my new subjects, devoting significant time on ancient runes to acquaint myself to the funny symbols and their meanings. And I couldn't start on my care of magical creatures homework until nightfall when all the students would be in bed and the creatures – Hagrid didn't mention what we would be working with tonight – would be wide awake, so I attempted to have a little nap.

Not that I could sleep. Peeves kept bugging the house elves and causing chaos. I had managed to stop him twice, but then he called my bluff on calling the Bloody Baron and flung ink pellets at me, shouting, "Naughty smelly Ellie! Naughty, naughty big-nose Ellie! Need a goo' spanking I seeeeeeeeeee!" No doubt those ink pellets were charmed, for I had to spend ages in the shower to remove the mysterious stench emanating from them.

And now, for Fred to act haughty to my face straight after lunch was the last straw. I was grumpy. I was frustrated. And to top it _all_ off, I was on my bleeding period!

"You know what, I promised I'd spend the afternoon with Angelina. I'm off," Fred jumped out of his seat and stormed out of the portrait hole.

George and Lee stared after him.

"That was…odd," Lee said.

"Very," George frowned. "Lee, how 'bout you grab us our broomsticks and meet me at the pitch. Tell Fred to go there too, I'll see you in a bit."

"But he just said-"

"Invite Ange as well then, she won't dare say no to some Quidditch. Go on, I need a word with Ella."

"Alrighty then," Lee sang, lifting himself out of his seat and following after Fred but not before ruffling my hair a bit.

The kitchen was silent after he left. The house elves weren't even making any noise as they clicked their fingers, cleared the mess and then disappeared off into the dorms.

George plopped down beside me on the floor, crossing his legs and throwing his arm around my shoulder.

"What's wrong with you then, grumpy?" he asked.

"Just a bad day," I muttered.

"And what's this wrong with you and Fred?"

My blood boiled instantly. "Nothing's wrong with us. It's your brother that's the problem."

"I kind of saw that. Any ideas why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm a squib and he can't bear being near one," I snapped. Hurt flashed on his face and I instantly sobered. "Sorry. It's true though! He was fine before he found out."

"But that's not like Fred. He wouldn't judge you like that," George said, his voice quiet.

"But he did. Come off it George, not everyone is going to accept me. And Fred, sadly, is one of those people." My chest panged as I thought of all the stories George shared with me over the years of him and his brother, who I had not then known was his twin. I longed to be part of their little duo and play with them. Fred sounded amazingly cool and brilliant back then. I hated to say I was jealous of how George spoke so fondly of him but never arranged for us to meet. I so desperately wanted us to be friends one day. And for him to look so…angry at the mere sight of me…it hurt. A lot.

George shook his head. "No. Fred is _not _like that, I swear it. Just try and be friends with him."

I was about to protest about how horrid that idea was only for George to cut me off.

"Please? For me? If he doesn't lighten up you can stop and ignore him forever. I'll go and have a word with him now, see what crawled up his ginger arse, died and decayed all over his bowels." He rubbed my shoulder. "Please?" he pleaded again.

I closed my eyes and counted to five in my head. "Ok. For you," I agreed.

George's infectious smile and bear hug made me laugh, and I thought, for a minute, perhaps it could work. George knew his twin better than anyone else. It would work.


	14. Bonny Life

**Thank you for waiting my patient little lovelys! I've been so busy and my brother's been on the laptop and taking it to university everyday so I have had little to no time on it at all. It is his laptop after all so I really can't complain...much.**

**Thank you to all the follows/favourites/reviews, you guys are all amazing! The story will really begin to move on after this chapter.**

**And a little note: I have had a lot of inspiration bursts lately (more than I can count) and I have uploaded some summaries for future stories onto my bio so please check them out and let me know what you guys think. My first [Untitled] fic I have already started writing! Hooray! Done two chapters but I won't be uploading it yet. It's a GeorgexOC fic and I'm so so excited for you guys to read it. If anyone wants a little snippet of it just message and I'll be more than happy to oblige. As you can I'm far too excited for it but I need to get organised and juggle everything appropriately before I can add this into the mix. Updating this story is headache enough without adding another!**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Getting along with Fred Weasley proved harder to do than I first expected. Even agreeing to it had been a struggle at the time but this…this was a nightmare. Whenever the twins popped down for a snack or a chat I made a point to ask Fred a question or laugh at his jokes (not that I needed to force it; he was incredibly funny, I found). But he always gave me this weird look, one which I could not discern, before giving in to a scowl and grumbling a short response. It had been that way for the last few days.

The first (and worst) effort to befriend the second Weasley twin happened the day after my agreement when they had come down to the kitchen before dinner.

"We need to know what you're making, Princess! We've got a bet going where if we're right about what's on for dinner tonight, we'll make galleons!" George had pleaded, kneeling in front of my position on the armchair.

"Go and ask the house elves, then. I'm busy," I had replied, nibbling on the end of a quill as I attempted my ancient runes homework. It wasn't as hard as I thought. It was only George's constant nagging that had my head fogged. His hair kept falling into his eyes and he would impatiently brush it away only for it to lazily swing back. How could it be that just by him sitting there I'd be so easily distracted? It was driving me insane. And those damn large eyes…

It was almost as if he didn't want me to study.

"But we can't understand them! They don't speak English, not like you."

I had to lift my eyes to meet his at that. "Last I heard they spoke perfectly well…Mr Wheezy," I grinned.

"See!" He pointed his long finger in my face. "They can't even say Weasley."

"Bugger off, I have to do this."

"Uh, FRED! You come and try, this woman's bloody stubborn."

I paled instantly. I was sure Fred had done so as well but I wasn't about to look at him and check. He had been leaning against the bricks around the fireplace behind George, his hands resting lazily in his pockets and his leg perched up behind him. George's face was urging me to speak up first.

I sighed deeply. "Fred, who's idea was it to make this bet?"

Fred looked up at me, his face somewhat shocked. I smiled softly in encouragement, my eyes flitting to George briefly to see him grinning at me.

"George's," Fred replied.

"And does it bother you if you lose the bet?"

He scoffed. "Of course it bloody does. We need that money. I'm sure you wouldn't understand the importance of wizard money and why _we_ need it."

Silence followed. My mouth hung open and my eyes burned at his stab. Fred stared.

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" George demanded.

He didn't reply, just conveyed the meaning to George with a single long look. I wiped my eyes hastily with the sleeve of my jumper behind George's back.

I told the boys the menu for dinner. They probably didn't hear me, or they made no notice of it. Either way, I departed into the bustle of the house elves straight after.

My insecurities played with me at night, taunting me; hopes and dreams of being accepted crushed in a moment. Nightmares plagued me, only lasting seconds; long enough for me to shy away from late night walks and discussions with Dumbledore.

The twins still came every day. I continued to make small talk with Fred, always incited by George first, but stopped after a sentence or two. I didn't want to speak to him. Fear lingered in the back of my head if he ever made a reference to my being a squib again. It was horrible hearing those words from someone who looked exactly like George. Whenever Fred opened his mouth I always found myself wincing; imagining stabbing words coming from George, my only friend at Hogwarts, would destroy me. So I avoided it as much as possible.

My mood dampened as November blew away and December descended, from my busy schedule with homework, classes and cooking, to the polarisation between the Hogwarts house elves and the two new arrivals: Dobby and Winky. Dobby took an instant liking to the twins, giving them whatever they wanted regardless of how extreme and odd their requests were ("A peanut butter and bacon sandwich for me-" "-and a beef trifle with gravy and custard for me.").

Winky, on the other hand, was constantly blubbering and drinking her sorrows down to the bottom of a bottle of butterbeer. All the house elves were disgusted with the both of them; Dobby, for him expressing his freedom, and Winky for dishonouring their race by behaving so abysmally.

No matter how hard I tried, she wouldn't see sense. Everything I said made her cry even harder, made her hate me even more.

And that's what she was doing now: weeping away into a dirty dish towel on a stool somewhere.

"What's this one called?"

"That's moussaka," I answered, swatting George's hand away from the dish as he attempted to prod it.

"And this one?" he asked, pointing to a steaming pot. He was without Fred today, something about the crabby twin not spending enough time with his friends. It had stung a bit when George said that, that the Fred Weasley who I had heard stories about throughout the years, the same Fred who I had been dying to meet, to play with, didn't recognise me as a friend, but as an inferior. But then I realised the alternative would be him being in the kitchen with us and making everything awkward and tense, and I sighed in relief. Especially seeming as I was thinking of George all day, waiting by the minutes for his pleasant company.

"Kavarma," I replied absentmindedly, stirring the pot over a house elf's head and droopy ears.

"What 'bout this one?"

"Bouillabaisse."

"This?"

"Shepherd's pie, idiot."

"Ooh, what's-"

"George!" I snapped. He jumped away from the tart and grinned at me.

"Yes, Ella dearest?"

"Quit it, I'm busy," I said, rushing to chop some vegetables on a nearby table while mentally revising the twelve uses for dragons blood. _Oven cleaner…Spot remover…curing certain injuries…_

"Whyyyyyy?" George groaned. "Sit down for a minute."

"I can't. Go and…prank Snape or something."

George hopped onto the table beside the chopping board. "How 'bout Filch? Y'know, I don't think he fully appreciated the Boil-ing Bonbons in his tea from the other day. Not enough boils on his nose, I reckon. I'm sure Fred has some more stashed away in-"

"No," I said firmly, placing all my attention on George. "You will do no such thing to Filch."

George frowned. "Why not? You were all for us pranking Snape a minute ago."

"Yes, but that's Snape," George furrowed his eyebrows and gestured for me to explain further. "Snape can sort himself out within seconds after whatever you do to him. Filch can't."

"And that's what makes it so funny," he drawled as if he were speaking to a child.

I slammed the knife down on the table. Several house elves jumped upon hearing the sound resonate in the kitchen. Winky's incessant crying carried on. "Because he's a squib."

George's eyes widened in realisation. I moved back to the stove, now recalling the differences between Monkhood and Wolfsbane.

"Ella, I didn't mean that! Shit, I'm sorry."

I ignored him.

"Come on Ella. I'll prank Snape, just for you."

_Same plant…also known as aconite…_

"You know I didn't mean it! What's wrong with you today?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You of all people should know what today is."

George quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah. I do. It's the 3rd December. Thursday, to be more accurate."

"Unbelievable," I scoffed. "The one day that I thought I could actually rely on you, and you just…"

"Just what?" he asked, his voice low.

I licked my dry lips and looked up to the high ceiling. Above us, the students and professors were slowly piling into the Great Hall for their dinner. "You forgot."

And without another word I turned around and walked into the cupboard to my dorm.

There was a narrow hallway with a small ceiling. I had to duck down slightly so as not to hit my head. After all, Helga Hufflepuff couldn't have expected a squib to be working amongst elves, so why would she provide facilities suited for us? Doors were lined up along the wall, each with a number from one to thirty-two. The house elves were roomed in a group of three or four, Dobby and Winky having their own dorms. I shuffled towards the door with the number one carved into it. Thankfully Dumbledore gave me the first door so I wouldn't have to walk far down the small hall hunched over.

I pushed the door open to the dorm I shared with Bonnie, the ceilings magicked higher. The calendar on the wall beside the full length mirror stared back at me. The violent purple and green circled around the 3rd December over and over again. I walked over to it. There was a picture on the mirror, one that was taken years ago. Nanny Anne's pale face and blonde frizz with only the faintest hint of grey smiled out of the unmoving picture; Bill's small eyes disappeared into the mass of hair on his face and his hat, but they held his usual twinkle, the love for Nanny Anne evident in his every feature. And then there was me. Little ten year old me, grinning with massive and gapped teeth, stretching myself up on my toes. My chestnut brown hair was in a bun that had been sleek and elegant in the morning but mussed up after running around with Jimmy, highly contrasting my floral dress that I had been forced into just for the picture. Both Nanny Anne's and Bills arms were around me.

Tears were trailing silently down my face once I'd finished analysing the picture; my first ever happy family picture with no forced smiles or rigid postures. The photographer had been a muggle and wouldn't allow Jimmy in it (although if you looked very closely you could see the tip of a nose and the edge of a purple party hat just about poking in). I lifted my fingers to ghost over each individual, starting with little me…moving onto grizzly bear Bill…and then Nanny Anne. Bonny Nanny Anne.

_The morning was cold when I snuck out the house, Jimmy hot on my heels. Well, I wasn't exactly sneaking out – I had Bill's permission to leave before either him or Nanny Anne awoke. But I had to be quiet: Nanny Anne had a tendency to wake up before everyone and get started on breakfast and some early morning shopping._

_So, it was with quick, silent feet that Jimmy and I ran down the market. The streets were blissfully barren as we stopped outside Imogen's Bakery, chugging in as much cold air._

"'_Bout time you got here," came his voice._

"_Wasn't sure whether you were able to come," I answered breathlessly._

"_Well here I am! Did you really doubt me?"_

"_It's not like you could magic yourself sick enough to get off school early," I scoffed. He returned it with a cheeky smile._

"_You never know, I could be a wizard!"_

_I scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, alright George. Now come on, we need to go shops."_

_He saluted me. "Yes ma'am! Where to first?"_

"_Imogen's, duh. Idiot." George shoved me into the bakery roughly, making me stumble._

"_Watch it, little one," he smirked. I stuck my tongue out at him._

"_Oh, not you two again," Imogen huffed upon seeing us in front of the counter but couldn't help a smile._

_George grinned. "Lovely Immy! Boy, do we have an order for you today."_

_After retrieving all of our goods from various stores, we returned home, greeted by the silence, punctuated only by Bill's outrageous snored. We giggled as we heard a light slap, and Bill's snoring halted momentarily…before resuming after a moment even louder._

"_To the kitchen," I whispered to George. _

_Jimmy led the way and we placed our bags on the circular dining table. After dishing out the orders, we each got started on emptying the bags and sorting them into cupboards, onto plates and trays and all over the kitchen. We were done within the hour, just as the two adults began to wake._

"_Shh!" George hushed my excited giggling and clamped a hand over my mouth, but he, too, had a hint of a grin on the corners of his lips._

"_Come on, you old sod, time to get up," we heard Nanny Anne._

"'_M up, you crazy, bonny woman, 'm up," drawled Bill's sleep laden voice._

"_I'll get started on breakfast while you get off your bum." _

_That seemed to stir Bill awake as he suddenly exclaimed, "WAIT!"_

"_What? What is it?" Nanny Anne fussed._

"_I'll come down with yer, now."_

_The sounds of their blanket rustling and slippers shuffling along the floor alerted us to them coming down the stairs._

"_One…" George whispered into my ear, his hot breath hitting my freezing ear and tickling me._

"_Two…" I giggled. Their footsteps were down the stairs now._

"_Three!" we said as the two figures emerged into the kitchen. "Happy Birthday, Nanny Anne!"_

_The old woman jumped back into Bill and stared at the kitchen. A large banner held up above the window read 'Happy 21__st__ Birthday Gorgeous', food was laid out all over the kitchen, all of Nanny Anne's favourites (and a few of Bill's), gold, green and red tinsel was wrapped around the chairs, glitter adorned the floor, and Jimmy was wearing a bright purple party hat. Nanny Anne was speechless._

"_Happy 21__st__ birthday, gorgeous," George winked._

_Nanny Anne let out a giggle. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that now, love."_

"_What? Nonsense! You don't look a day over 18," he grinned._

"_If I weren' absolutely sure, I'd say you were hittin' on my wife," Bill chuckled._

"_She's beautiful, that's for sure."_

"_Far too bonny for me," Bill agreed. He was swatted in the chest by Nanny Anne._

"_This…this…I can't even…this is…"_

"_You like it?" I asked timidly._

_She turned her kind eyes on me. "What were you doing out of bed so early without us knowing, young lady?"_

_My eyes widened. "Wha...NO! Bill said to, he gave me permission!"_

_Nanny Anne laughed her musical laugh. "I'm just joking my love. This is wonderful! I can't believe you all did this for me."_

"_You're worth it and more." Bill wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pecked her on the cheek, only for George and me to groan in protest. "Oh, hush it yous!"_

"_So, then…can we eat?" George asked._

_Everyone laughed and sat around the table for breakfast._

"_Say, George, shouldn't you still be in school? It's only your first year!" Nanny Anne asked._

"_I got really, really sick. So sick that I couldn't stay in the hospital wing and had to come home," George said solemnly, shovelling another mouthful of food._

"_Should yer really be havin' some cake for breakfas' if yer sick?"_

"_I'm better now!"_

_After breakfast was eaten and cleared, we all took seats in the living room. George had excused himself to go home, leaving his present for Nanny Anne under the table and promising to come back soon to see how she liked it. His departing mischievous grin left us all anxious as to what he got her. _

"_Well, seeing as it's my birthday, I say we have a family picture." Bill and I agreed. "And I thought you could wear that pretty new dress, Ella."_

_I was about to groan and protest loudly as to why that was a horrid idea, but then I saw her small smile. The smile that I couldn't ever deny, no matter what it was asking. So I nodded and put it on with some boots and a jacket to combat the cold air. The photographer took our picture quickly and we stood together, looking at it for a few moments._

"_My family." Nanny Anne murmured._

"_Ay, my crazy, bonny family."_

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in my dorm but when I returned to the kitchen dinner was being cleared up and the chatter from above had gone, along with many of the house elves. The absence of crying made me turn to Winky's corner, only to see she wasn't there. I sighed in relief.

Bonnie gave me a sad smile as I walked past her, but said nothing. The fire was roaring when I made it to my armchair. But it wasn't empty. A red head was lightly snoring, sprawled out on the chair.

"George?" I called, nudging him in the shoulder softly. He made no response so I did it again, calling his name louder.

His head shot up and blinked up at me. "Ella!" George jumped up and hugged me tight. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to forget. You know I would've come straight to you if I had known. Merlin, I'm the biggest prat ever!"

"I'm okay, George, really. I've calmed down, I overreacted," I reassured him, tightening my arms around his neck.

"I should have been more…sensitive."

I laughed into his shoulder. "Did it kill you to say that?"

"Hell yes!" He pulled away. "I really am so-"

"George, shut up. It's not your fault. I always get a bit…"

"Crabby? Stuffy? Cranky? Arse-y? Bitchy?"

"Emotional," I said, "on this day."

George rubbed my shoulders and nodded. "At least you're not about to chew my balls off now."

I smacked his arm. "I wouldn't chew your balls if you paid me," I mumbled.

He tugged me down beside him on the armchair and leaned his head on mine as we stared into the fire. But, of course, it would be absurd for George Weasley to stay quiet for a few minutes.

"So that cupboard…"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes…?"

"What the hell is it? All I saw was spiders and cockroaches and rats guts."

"You did not see rat's guts!" I exclaimed.

"I ruddy well did! And a leprechaun shoe. But really, what is it?"

I jumped up off the seat and pulled George up by the hand. "Come with me, I'll show you," I said.

"Bonnie!" the tiny house elf appeared with a _pop_. "Can you do me a favour please?"

"Oh, yes! Anything for Miss Ella!" she yelled with glee.

"Can you let George come into the dorm please?" I could feel George staring into the back of my head.

"Of course, of course, of course!" Bonnie ran over to the cupboard and clicked her fingers, then bowed low to us. "Bonnie is done, Miss Ella."

I bid her thanks and pulled George to the cupboard. "Feast your eyes…" I smirked at his confused, yet intrigued expression. The handle turned easily in my hand and I pulled the door open and bent low in the hall, hurriedly opening the first door and straightening myself inside it.

"Ow!" George cursed, rubbing his head as he followed me inside. "What in the name of Merlin's left bollock is this?" He asked, mesmerised as he stood up straight in my dorm.

I grinned. "Welcome to my dorm."

"You stay here?"

"Yup."

"Bloody hell. This is fantastic," he murmured, his eyes watching everything in the room. They landed on the photo by the mirror and he smiled sadly. "I knew I should have stayed, that photo would have been amazing with me in it."

"I'm sure it would," I replied, sitting on my bed and leaning back against the headboard.

George slowly walked over, still staring all around, and sat down cross legged at the foot of my bed. "I never even thought of where you might be sleeping."

I shrugged. "It could've been worse; I could've been stuck in the dungeons near Snape."

George chuckled and stretched his legs out, making himself more comfortable. "Nice bed."

"I'm sure it's not as good as yours."

My face heated as George grinned. Before I could redeem myself George was quick to reply. "Want to try and see?"

My pillow contacted his face with a _thump_. "No! You know what I meant, arse."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. You can't deny your sexual attraction bubbling away for me- OW! WOMAN!"

We spent a long time just talking and catching up without the gauche presence of his twin lingering around us. It was nice, being with just George again, talking about nonsense that only we knew.

And then a loud voice broke through our conversation ("So then Fred, the less attractive twin, leaned against a suit of armour, fell arse over tit and completely botched the plan! And Susan thinks we're gawky stalkers now! Unbelievable.") George and I shared a confused look before moving out into the kitchen where the voice became much clearer and louder.

"Fred? What are you doing here?" George asked his fuming twin, amused.

"What am I doing here? Are you insane!? You disappear for ages to talk to your little friend, you miss dinner, even though they had shepherd's pie, and then you're still not back after another hour! What the hell have you been doing?" Fred yelled, his face as red as his hair and his arms flying about him.

"Whoa, easy mate," George soothed, holding up his hands in an attempt to calm his brother.

"You missed dinner?" I asked from behind George, my voice as angry as Fred's. "Why didn't you say anything? God, you idiot. Let me rustle something up for you." I manoeuvred around the kitchen and pulled out pans and food.

"How could you not know he didn't eat? Weren't you here?" Fred asked.

"Fred, leave her," George said. "I fell asleep when she was busy. No biggie."

Fred sighed and shook his head at his brother. "How can you call yourself a Weasley, a Weasley twin, no less, if you miss a meal?"

George smiled. "Happens in the presence of a bonny girl."

My movement halted for a split second and a smile crept onto my face, remembering Bill say that many times before.

"I guess you're excused then."

Once again my mouth fell open from the words of Fred Weasley. I turned to face Fred. He was looking at George but once I faced him, he flashed a quick smile, so quick I had to think twice on whether or not it actually happened.

"Great!" George clapped his hands grinning madly.

The twins left shortly after, and for the first time there was no hostility between me and Fred. George ended up taking an armful of sweets and desserts out with him; Fred taking some more savoury foods for them to share.

And then Dumbledore summoned me.

His words were soft and slow, but I couldn't hear them. No, I was still reeling over what he said minutes again.

"If you so wish, I can arrange a visit for you to return home to Ottery for the holidays; I'm sure you are greatly missing your friends. Of course, you will not need to leave for the entire break, not after you hear what I have planned for the students on Christmas Eve…"

And he went on, and on, something about a ball, another thing about clothes…he was endless! I waited patiently for him to return to the subject of Ottery St. Catchpole. It seemed to take forever, but eventually, he asked me again.

I said yes.

Memories and thoughts of being reunited with Zoe and Nate won over any rational thought. I didn't care about my cover story as to why I had suddenly disappeared one day without any hint as to where I had gone. All my mind was focused on was the warm, crushing arms of my friends; their gigantic smiles and crude humour; their contrasting personalities that fit so well together.

Nostalgia hit me hard. And all of a sudden I didn't care about anything else but my two older friends. In just a few weeks I'd be sitting with them by the fire and an over decorated tree with way too many baubles and loads of bells and tinsel, each with some hot chocolate or egg nog, surrounded by torn up wrapping paper. We'd go out and watch the fireworks late at night in the town square and play with sparklers.

Regardless of whether I would be there on Christmas or not, we would fulfil Ottery' traditions. And this ball Dumbledore had planned…well, that sounded like a disaster.


End file.
